Hurricane
by Seera8472
Summary: Life is tough for a violent fifteen-year-old High School Sophomore with anger management issues. Even her shapeshifting Monster can't make things better. Meeting a dreaded masked supervillain one night while joyriding makes things even more complicated. (No pairings, ew.)
1. Villain

**A/N:** Okay this fanfic is completely different than the actual movie's storyline and could probably be a standalone story if I changed some concepts/names/locations. Uh. It's weird. "Monster" is a very strange concept that... just sort of showed up in my brain. Yep. Off we go.

Edit: Rearranging and editing chapters as I go. Apparently I can't leave well enough alone. Oh well! 8V

**TRIGGER WARNING: Physical and emotional child abuse, both direct and implied. There is also implied animal abuse.**

/

The car's wires sparked against her fingers, causing her to jump, but she didn't let go. Battery wire, ignition, and starter—there it was; she used her nails to cut a strip of insulation off and wrap the battery wires together, then did the same to the starter and touched them together. The car roared to life.

Heart pounding, adrenaline running, she fumbled with the steering column. It was locked. Someone's light went on and, panicking, Machiko threw her weight into twisting the steering wheel.

_Crack. _She twisted it to the other side.

_Crack. _Yes.

Door slammed shut, car in gear and _rev_! Someone was shouting now. She didn't care because she was already gone, the car's engine screaming as it powered up the hill and down the other side, utterly oblivious to red lights and any poor souls who might be out—but no one was, because who would be outside at night in this part of town?

Besides, the car she stole was probably stolen already. They weren't going to report it.

Her anger was her fuel, her feet and bruised fingers her wheels, her eyes—only one blackened this time—her headlights. Rage made her yank at the steering wheel, sending it skidding across wet pavement and nearly careening directly into a building.

The near-death experience held no weight with her and didn't stop her from doing the exact same thing, again, across the train tracks, nearly tipping the car _over_.

Something moved in her rear view mirror. A glance told her what it was, and she returned her attention to driving. The mass of shifting flesh and legs, understandably dubbed "Monster", raced along behind her.

She wasn't worried that it wouldn't keep up. It had always been able to in the past, why not now?

It suddenly peeled off to the left, now something like a huge centipede, to skitter up the side of a building and run alongside the car. Its presence made things better. Its anger echoed hers. She gunned it over the next hill, sending the car flying and her head spinning. Yes, yes, _yes_!

"_Yes_!" burst out of her mouth, a cry of pure joy so intense she felt lightheaded. _This_ was what it was like to fly!

It crashed back into the road, sending a shock of pain through her already-throbbing head. And then Machiko had to throw on the emergency brake and twist the car around to a screeching halt before it hit the shipping containers stacked at the pier.

The stench of burning rubber filled the air. The fifteen-year-old leaned back in her seat, panting heavily and staring at the ceiling of the car for some time until Monster extended a feeler through the broken window to touch her face.

She rolled her head to the side to look at it. Pincers grew, twisted, and melted back into its body. A line formed horizontally and split open, revealing rows of sharp teeth. A series of eyes popped wide to stare at her. The creature was a monstrosity in ever sense of the word and a completely unnatural freak of nature. It was also Machiko's best friend for as long as her memory stretched.

"Someday," she told it, "we'll learn how to fly."

It hissed and its mouth melted closed again, its head rolling down and disappearing. Machiko kicked the door open and stumbled out of the seat, panting. The adrenaline was slowly dissipating, leaving her trembling and angry all over again.

"God damn it," she choked. "It's not _fair_." She punctuated the last word with a punch to the metal container, sending more pain through her already bruised fingers. No, she needed to do something. She needed to go riding again, or get in a fight. Man it'd be nice to get in a good fight; one where she'd get nice and bloodied and bruised but do the same _back_. One where she could say _Yeah but you should see the other guy_.

She could always start one at a bot fight, but people went to those in gangs and she had no backup (unless you counted Monster, but it needed to stay hidden to the general public). She could go to a bar, but even the seedy ones wouldn't let fifteen-year-olds in unless she provided them favors she wasn't willing to provide, up to and including sexual ones.

But she needed to get the fire out of her veins, the rage out of her heart, though she knew that was impossible. The anger would always be there. The hatred would never go away. She just needed to get it down to a simmer for tomorrow, when her class toured the San Fransokyo Institute of Technology—something she was actually looking forward to, or at least would be if she could stop to think about it.

Machiko moved and Monster followed, hoisting her up to the top of the storage container and following underneath as she leaped from metal box to metal box, running across them and feeling the frustration burn in her veins. She couldn't go back home. Not now, not after what had gone down there.

Maybe she should just… calm down. Or try. There wasn't anything around here to take her anger. She couldn't yell at Monster, she couldn't break anything, she already went joyriding…

Movement caught her eye and she skidded to a halt. There was a dark figure near the pier and she moved closer to get a better look. There was some sort of black mass writhing around in the water. He—she thought it was a he—was moving his arms like a conductor, the mass sliding around obediently like some sort of liquid dog.

She should have realized who it was right off the bat, but her adrenaline was still pumping and she was in a lot of discomfort and so got closer, and closer, Monster hissing quietly below her in concern.

He must have heard something, because he turned around and scanned the docks before looking up—right at her.

_Oh SHIT._

She'd seen that face—that _mask _on TV plenty of times. The bone-white with red streaks; the yellow eyes gleaming in the dark. The mass roiled and launched the figure up, keeping him hovering at eye level with her as she stumbled back. And then the mass, the microbots, she remembered their name now; crept up the shipping container she was standing on with alarming speed and grabbed her legs.

"Whoa _hey!_" They yanked, sending her tumbling onto her back. The back of her head hit the metal with a solid _thud_. Yokai, the dreaded criminal mastermind and _murderer_ landed just a few feet from her. She tried to scramble back, but the solid black mass held her there and her head spun from the hard contact with the container. Yokai was slinking towards her and flicked a hand to send the tiny robots up her torso towards her face. Machiko's eyes widened. This wasn't something she could actually fight against. It wasn't something she could break and _oh god _she was gonna die!

_Oh no I'm not_.

Panic became rage again. Oh, she wasn't some helpless teen to be caught unawares by the supervillan and vanish without a trace, no; she _did _have backup this time!

Monster all but ignited off her fury. With a hissing scream, it rose from where it had huddled at the base of the container out of sight like it was supposed to and coiled into the air, sprouting long spidery legs and spines off its back, chatting pincers and gleaming furious eyes. Yokai stopped dead and stared up at it, and though his mask was expressionless his body language communicated complete shock. Which was the appropriate response to seeing Monster for the first time.

With one swipe of a leg the majority of the microbots were knocked off her body and she scrambled to her feet. Yokai had leaped backwards onto the black platform that whisked him back away from them both.

"Y'wanna _go_?" she screamed at him, her lips pulled back in a wild grin. Monster roared again and flowed around her. Alarm bells were going off in the back of her mind—what was she doing, going against Yokai? But all thoughts of danger had been pushed aside, so she leaped on Monsters back and clung to the feelers that sprouted there as it lunged for the white-masked villain.

They were immediately slammed by a solid wall of bots. Monster howled and twisted, protecting her from the force of the blast while legs whipped out of its body and cushioned the blow and landed it on the side of a container, leaping off without missing a beat straight at Yokai once again.

Machiko leaped off at the last moment, tackling him full-force—a stupid move on her part. He was a _supervillain_, and a good one at that; completely used to this tactic, he backhanded her across the chest a split second before she got to him. The microbots helped the action by becoming an extension of his arm to cause even more of a blow. But he had other things to contend with and the creature's many jaws snapped at him, forcing him away.

There was a moment of silence. Monster landed heavily between him and her as she struggled to her feet and limped over to stand next to it.

"Little girl," Yokai's voice was harsh and distorted by the mask, "you do not know what you are doing."

"You fucking started it," she spat at him, still wheezing. "This is all self-defense. C'mon, you have yours and I have mine. Let's do this."

He reared up on his microbots. Monster grabbed Machiko in its many legs and mirrored the villain's stance, and they met in a giant clash. Microbot fists met flesh that gave and reformed; teeth clamped on millions of little bots that did the same. Machiko swung at the masked man at every chance she had.

Later she would wish she had kept her cool better. Her rage kept her from remembering most of the fight in a haze of red; all she knew is she came to scraped, bruised, bloody and bleeding; Monster was exhausted and somewhere far in the distance a bell was tolling 2 AM.

They separated again. Yokai looked no worse than before, but again he had the benefit of black clothing to mask any injuries and experience on his side. She squinted through her swollen eyes. Was he even breathing hard? He'd been able to divert any attack she'd directed at him and had done a number on her. And Monster, but Monster was able to heal almost instantly while she decidedly could _not_.

Still, he hadn't managed to kill them yet.

As soon as it had come upon her Machiko felt her fury subside. She took a deep breath. Reacting to her sudden calmer state, Monster's spines melted into its sides and it shrunk away from the supervillain, who watched silently, ready for another attack.

"Interesting specimen you have." His voice wasn't even ragged, or maybe that was just the mask hiding any evidence of exhaustion. That wasn't even _fair_.

Machiko grunted. Unlike her attacker, she was feeling the effects of the fight. But she felt much better.

"Care to share?"

"To a guy who just tried to kill me?" She laughed wearily. Monster continued to back up, its head becoming its tail and vice versa. "Go to hell."

He was advancing again. Machiko was forced to think about their situation. They were both tired and in pain and the realization that she had just clashed with a major deadly supervillain was coming back. Damn it, she had really gotten herself into it this time—

A sound caught her attention and her head whipped around, just in time to see the black mass heave a shipping container into the air.

An obscenity ripped through her throat. Monster screamed at the same time and lunged to escape it and in its haste she was thrown clear, or maybe it threw her to get her away. She flew through the air, mercifully not very far, and slammed into a wall.

The last thing she heard before she lost consciousness was Monster howling in distress.

_That fucker, _she thought, and everything went black.

/

She missed the entire next day of school and the subsequent tour of the college. Monster took care of her, bringing her food (where it got it she didn't know, but she never heard any sirens so she assumed it got it quietly) and keeping her warm where it had brought her, an abandoned warehouse across town. How it had managed to get away from Yokai while lugging her unconscious ass was beyond her, and she wished she had been awake just to see it. She spent the day vomiting and crying into its thick, shifting hide in a belated reaction to the events of last night and the original reason she had gone joyriding in the first place.

She remembered how her dog had looked crumpled near the wall in the corner of their old kitchen, cracked tile and the stale smell of old booze on the air. Rowdy's body looked like a pile of sticks covered in an old cloth bag, eyes wide open and staring. The violent death of the ancient black-and-white terrier, a companion she'd had since she was little, set her on a vicious angry cycle of destruction. First her dad, then her body, and finally the car she'd stolen and Yokai had born the brunt of her rage.

Sure, Rowdy was seventeen. Sure, she'd had to carry him up and down stairs and made sure he ate all his food and done all the research she could to make sure he got everything he needed. But he hadn't been in any pain. People said he was a miserable little dog but they hadn't known him when he was away from prying eyes. When they were alone together he blossomed into a happy creature and it just wasn't _fair _that he'd gone the way he had.

In the end she relented, accepted that she was in shock, and limped alone to the hospital. It was a long and painful journey and she brushed off several concerned queries about her wellbeing before finally accepting a ride from a stranger to get there. It was a dumb decision; she didn't know the guy, but hell. She was full of dumb decisions, why not another one?

The guy was, fortunately, friendly, and even walked her into the hospital. She was treated for a broken rib (just one? she asked), a concussion, scanned for hemorrhaging, and given enough pain meds for several days. She was honestly surprised she didn't have any more broken bones.

And then it was time to face the music.

"What am I going to do with you," her principal sighed, considering the sullen teen on the other side of his desk. Machiko snorted. If she had a dime for every time he alone said that to her or her father she'd be filthy rich. "Why don't you apply yourself a little more—just a little more! And you'd be on the fast track to success."

She stared at the little "Just be yourself!" sign carved into a wooden block on his desk. What she really wanted to do was take it and throw the damn thing through the window…

Principal Harkin sighed again and folded his arms, leaning back in his chair. He considered himself a good principal. He'd gotten several recommendations and awards for being just that. Every so often he'd get a child who just seemed to always slip through the cracks, but he was always able to get them back on track. Machiko was the one exception to this rule and she'd become a bit of a project.

"You're a puzzle," he said finally.

"Heard that before," the girl muttered, playing with a strand of long bleach-blonde hair. It looked off against her dark eyebrows and even darker eyes.

"Well, then help me understand it. You fail every class but anything to do with the biological sciences. And with those, we've run out of things to teach you. Did you know," he said finally in frustration, "that we're trying to get you to attend college classes early?"

She blinked and looked up. No, she hadn't known that.

"I, and the rest of the faculty, have been trying to negotiate just that with San Fransokyo Institute of Technology. We can't get you to graduate early, because your grades in everything else are so bad." He watched her reaction carefully. Her eyes had brightened, but she still looked wary. "But we _can_ have you take special time off school to attend classes there."

She finally looked up entirely. There was a light in her eyes he'd never seen before. "I need you," he punctuated his words firmly and carefully, "to work with me on this. And _not _run out and get into fights."

A very, very slight nod. Her eyes were fixed on him with an intensity he only wished she'd show her other school subjects. He decided to push it just a little more. Maybe the girl would open up a little.

"What were you doing out there anyway? It's dangerous. Did you not tell your father where you were going?"

The light shut down and she lowered her face, the anger returning. Principal Harkin despaired. Something he'd said had set her off. "No," she replied tightly. "My dog died last night. I was upset and went for a… run."

"And a fight, I'm assuming."

"Yeah. But he started it."

"And you finished it?"

"No." A cold laugh. "I got my ass kicked."

He took a breath, held it for a moment, and expelled it. "Machiko," he said as gently as possible, "I'm sorry your dog died."

"Killed," she snapped viciously, and he blinked, startled. "He was killed."

"That's terrible. I'm sorry to hear that. Did you file a report with the police?"

"No," she replied, the bitterness in her voice somehow worse than the anger. "They wouldn't've been able to do anything."

"He was run over?"

"…Yeah." Her lips were thin again. The hesitation made him pause, but he brushed it aside as always.

"He was very old, wasn't he?"

"Seventeen."

"That's incredible. He was close to death, Machiko. You did a wonderful job raising him and taking care of him… but he was going to die."

"He didn't have to die _then_!" The hurt was painful to bear.

"I understand that, but you need to not get into fights and land yourself with a concussion in the hospital!"

Machiko grit her teeth. He didn't understand. He said he did, just like everyone else, but he didn't understand anything.

"Now." Harkin pushed up his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. He only got them when he had to deal with this juvenile delinquent. The things he did to keep her in school... she'd never appreciate them. "There is another tour of the college going out tomorrow. The bus leaves at eight o'clock sharp, and I want you to be on it. Can you manage that?"

She took a deep breath and tried to focus. Her voice was very quiet. "Yeah."

"I'll phone your father—"

"No need," she interrupted quickly. "I don't have to go home. I can stay in school."

He gave her an incredulous look. "You're still on pain meds."

"If that stopped me, you'd keep me from the field trip tomorrow." Her gaze was challenging. Principal Harkin considered, then gave in. He'd learned long ago that to rise to the challenge would only bring an escalated argument followed by whatever she wanted to do anyway, heedless of consequences. Why she skipped school and got in fights because her dog died then stayed in school high on pain medication was beyond him, but there was no point fighting it.

"All right. But report to the nurse if you start having any side effects. Understand?"

"Whatever."

"Compromise, Machiko."

She grunted and heaved herself out of the chair. "What period is it?"

He sent her off to her math class, fully knowing she may or may not actually go, and if she did she would likely not listen to the subject in the slightest. The chair creaked as he took a well-deserved break and tossed back a couple of aspirin. He hoped to god she was worth the trouble. The girl had serious anger management issues, no friends, refused to work hard on any subject except biology, and missed so much school he was being pressed to expel her. Fortunately routine drug tests revealed she was clean. Her father tried his best to keep her in line, but Harkin thought he'd probably gave up by now. Poor guy had his hands full…

Machiko probably should have taken his advice and gone home. Dad should have still been at work. But she couldn't go back to the place her dog had died. Her dad had put his body in a garbage bag and out with the trash and it had triggered another argument, one that would have landed her in tears if she wasn't dead set against crying.

As it was, the rest of the day was a blur. She remained on her medication. It made things fuzzy. She'd missed her biology class, but she'd take the test over later. Not that was she was at all nervous that she'd flunk.

If she didn't throw herself into biology she'd never find out what Monster was. Not that it would change anything, but it was something she could work for. Something that kept her going. Yeah, she'd find out what it was; the meager research she'd been able to do told her there was nothing like Monster in the world. When she was younger she'd try to tell people about it but, like everything else, no one believed her. That was why she _had _to do all she could to get into this college. She couldn't pass this opportunity up. If she was lucky, there would be so much work she'd have to claim she couldn't go home every night, and Dad would be forced to deal with it.

A sudden thought occurred to her—poor Monster, how were the pills she was on affecting it? She already knew it fed off her emotions. She didn't know what it did while she was asleep, though last night was proof it could behave independently to bring her to safety when she was incapacitated (thank god). What happened when she drank? Was its brain chemistry interrupted? What about now? Could it run away or fight while she couldn't stand without the room spinning?

She resolved to test this at some point and in the meantime wean off the pills. The possibility that it couldn't defend itself if found or attacked was too much of a risk. Now that Rowdy was gone... it was the only thing that mattered.

Night was quiet. Her dad was exhausted from work and fortunately didn't have the energy to even talk to her. Machiko kept herself barricaded quietly in her room just in case.

She was on the bus, as promised, at 8 AM sharp.


	2. Robot

**A/N: **Just edited the crap out of this chapter, and probably will continue as I go. Work in progress, work in progress.

Mrs. Kremer had never seen Machiko so alive as when they first unloaded out of the bus. The girl was practically spinning in place, taking in everything, her eyes alight with fascination. The biology teacher, Mr. Penn-Schaz, saw the most out of Machiko during his class; in order to actually witness Machiko _working _and participating with anything or anyone would be in his AP Biology course, where he _swore _she actually was one of his brightest kids. No one would believe him unless they saw it for themselves and it wasn't as if she would allow anyone to gawk at her. They didn't _think _she'd actually take a swing at a teacher, but no one was willing to test that theory.

"Okay, line up—yes, you too, Bo." She counted them swiftly. Children were children she thought, whether they were toddlers or high schoolers. Most of them were seniors and ready for adulthood, though there were some juniors—and then there was Machiko, the skinny bleached Japanese sophomore with the black eye and broken rib.

As soon as they were called to order the look of wonderment vanished and the constant anger returned. When they lined up Machiko took the middle, making a sizable gap on either side and obviously knowing exactly what she was doing from what Mrs. Kremer could see from the gleeful little glint in her eyes. Even the seniors gave the girl her space. Her reputation was well-known and a proven fact, as poor Jonathan Ramsey could testify (he refused to even talk about the incident, but he never snapped a girl's bra strap again).

Mrs. Kremer pursed her lips and motioned everyone on. They made their way across the green and up the steps through the grand entrance of the campus, where they were greeted by a diminutive and cheerful-looking man.

"All right, everyone, this is Dr. Ueda, and he's going to be our guide today!" The man waved and was met with excited "hello"s. "Dr. Ueda is a software programming professor and a _great _tour guide. What is it you teach exactly, for the benefit of this group?"

Machiko had lost interest when her teacher said "software" and returned her attention to her surroundings. To their left there was a tall older building she assumed were dorms, though she couldn't actually see the sign. But there was a really cool glass building further off that she could just barely read "Ito Ishioka Robotics Lab." Oh man, her specialty may be biology but she would _love _to see the inside of that building…

The group was moving—away from the robotics lab. Machiko hung back, taking it all in, before realizing they were vanishing up the next hill. She jogged to catch up, wincing in pain as her rib throbbed.

"Excuse me," she called, interrupting whatever Dr. Ueda was saying, "where's the biology department?"

He blinked, then smiled again. "Oh! We'll get to that," he assured her, then turned back to something about the dorms. Machiko frowned and glanced around. She didn't care about anything to do with the dorms, seeing as she wouldn't be actually attending full-time for another two years.

So, because she decided firmly that rules were for losers, Machiko hung back until the group had turned away to something else and then cheerfully set off for the robotics lab. What were they going to do when they found out, decide that it was the last straw and expel her? If they had to weigh wandering away from a tour group against setting a desk on fire to trip the fire alarm and using the distraction to leave school _just because, _she was pretty sure they would decide it wasn't really a big deal. Besides, the rest of the students would be glad they wouldn't have to worry about accidentally bumping her or something and getting a face full of fist.

Machiko wasn't necessarily proud of her wild and uncontrollable temper but she'd learned when to control it and when she didn't have to. In order to keep Monster from mirroring her anger and leaving the sewers to take it out on the local populace she'd learned to keep it leashed and suppressed until she could make sure it night and in a place it wouldn't be noticed. That didn't stop the whispered rumors and gossip of the homeless population and druggies, nor would it keep the few articles about a strange sewer monster every once and a while out of the paper, but it kept people from picking up their torches and pitchforks.

So this was really just therapy, she told herself. She'd take a quick look around, then ask someone about living sciences. They were leaving the college around 2 PM. She could find her way back by then.

It was a beautiful day and great for walking around outside. Machiko actually began to relax and enjoy herself. It must be great to walk around like this all day every day, able to do whatever you wanted and _go _wherever you wanted.

Absolutely no one contested her as she strode up to the big glass doors and let herself in. Machiko had long since learned that the more she acted like she belonged, the more people would accept her. And why wouldn't they? Maybe she was a kid sister meeting her sibling or parent here. Or maybe she was old enough, but just small stature. Either way she walked right into the huge hall without a care in the world, trotted up the steps, and followed signs to "Applied Sciences." It sounded promising.

"New student?"

At first Machiko didn't even respond, intent on her destination, but her brain caught up with her body and she spun around.

An older man smiled kindly down at her, though it flickered and a frown crossed his forehead when she turned to face him. Probably her black eye; that always threw people for a loop.

"Something like that," she replied casually. "My school's getting a tour. I wanted to see the robotics facility."

"Oh? I see… and where is the rest of your group?"

"Around."

He gave her an amused stern look. "You mean you're here without them knowing."

She countered with a grin, lowering her eyebrows and looking up at him with an expression that she'd learned made people uncomfortable. "Maybe."

"This place can be dangerous to someone who doesn't know what they're doing," he replied gently, "especially without an escort." He didn't seem perturbed.

A shrug. "I tend to find myself in dangerous situations. I'm still alive."

He gestured towards her face. "I can see that."

"Yeah. Got in a fight."

"Did you win, at least?"

"Got my ass kicked. Ended up in the hospital." She shrugged again. "Happens more than not."

He frowned in earnest now, studying her with a look she knew well was someone who was a parent disapproving of her actions. Not that her own father gave her that look, he just yelled, but she'd seen it enough times to know what it meant.

She made as if to go around him.

"Now, wait a minute," he said. The sudden steely command in his voice actually made her pause. There was a subtle difference that stopped her in her tracks.

"Yeah?"

"If you're going to go," he sighed, "let me at least escort you."

She blinked. She hadn't expected that. Eyeing him a moment, she gave him a tiny nod. He nodded back and held an arm in a slight sweeping motion down the hall. With a grin she mock-curtsied and followed.

"Anything you wanted to see in particular?" he asked, his patient smile back on his face. She shoved her hands in her pockets and offered him a slight smile back, then shook her head. "I wanted to see the bio labs, but this looked cool, so…"

"I see. So, what's your major?"

They chatted as they walked. The man, whose name was Professor Callaghan, turned out to be the founder of pretty much everything she saw and Machiko found him engaging to be around—much like every person she met at the robotics facility. There was just so much going on! The experiments, the engaging conversation, the complicated equations, the _laughter_. People were learning here, and having fun while doing it.

It blew her mind.

"This is the loading bay," Professor Callaghan opened the huge doors to an enormous room filled with people and spare parts. Machiko stopped dead as she took it all in. The room was huge and full of things she didn't even realize existed. Groups of students were hunched over tables, some dragged huge… pieces of metal, she didn't know what else to call them, across the floor with rolling tables, still more were testing machinery—someone was flying. _Flying_. With rocket boots. Freaking. Rocket boots. Only the professor's quiet laughter alerted Machiko to the fact that her mouth was open, and she snapped it shut quickly.

Callaghan began to explain the various things she saw, but stopped for a moment to speak to someone who'd jogged up to ask him a question. Machiko took advantage of his distraction to wander, slipping behind a barrier that had caution colors all over it and disregarding it entirely. If she paid attention to all the danger signs she'd never have fun when she sneaked out at night.

"Please refrain from going further. You may become injured."

Machiko didn't jump or shriek at the sound, but the curiously bland and kind of creepy tone made her suppress a start of shock. And then she _did _jump when she turned to see a giant inflated Pillsbury dough boy staring down at her with large black button eyes. She opened her mouth to speak and only a squeak emerged. _What the hell is that!_

"Uh," she managed.

It blinked and tilted its head smoothly to the side. Each movement was almost pre-planned and eerily flat and emotionless. Hesitantly Machiko lifted a hand and reached forward, brushing her fingers on the white surface. It felt almost like a cross between canvas and latex. "Are—you—are you a robot," she managed.

"Yes. I am Baymax, a personal healthcare companion. Hello. You seem to be injured. Do you require medical attention?"

"Um. Hi." She removed her hand from its stomach and touched her black eye. "No, it… it was taken care of. It's old news. You scared the bejeezus outta me."

"I apologize for any distress I may have caused. This area is dangerous. Please return to the designated safe zone, or you may become further injured." Still too shocked and a little intimidated to argue, Machiko obeyed, backing up around the wall. And then the intimidation factor went out the window when she witnessed it walk. The motion was a bouncy waddle and far too ridiculous to take seriously and she pressed a hand to her mouth to keep from giggling. Not that it would matter in the slightest to a robot that she was laughing at it.

"Baymax, are you—oh." The shock came back as a kid about her age followed the white bubble robot, stopped short and stared. "Hey."

"Hey," she echoed, eyeing him suspiciously. "You a student?"

He gave her a lopsided smile. "That's me. Hiro Hamada." He raised a hand for her to shake and her eyes narrowed—she hated shaking hands. But, okay. She slid her palm to his and grasped it firmly—a little too firmly, because he winced and pulled away quickly. _Wait, I should introduce myself too._

"Machiko Arashi," she said. "That thing yours?"

"Who, Baymax?" Hiro jerked his thumb at the robot. "Yeah, he's mine. Well. I didn't build him, my brother did." She noticed the pain on his face when he said _brother_. Uh-oh, time to divert the subject.

"You're not old enough for college, are you." Subtlety was not her thing, but Hiro didn't seem to mind.

"Nah," he said, grinning with what could only be described as a type of smugness she wanted to backhand right off his face. "Graduated high school at thirteen. I'm a student. You a sister to someone here?"

Machiko snorted. "No, fuck that. I'm on a tour. I might be taking classes here, but I probably won't graduate high school unless I start flunking everything." She smirked a little at the expression on his face. _That's right, I'm not your friend. We have nothing in common. Fuck off_. "But they're gonna send me here for bio classes."

"Oh!" He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "So… what're you doing over here?"

"I'm giving her a tour, since she seems to be too good for the group," Callaghan replied mildly from directly behind her. They both jumped about a foot and she shot him a dirty look. He ignored it. Hiro looked suddenly very uncomfortable and backed up. "Did you not want to visit the biology labs, Machiko?"

"Oh _hell_," she muttered, checking the time. If she wanted to get to the biology department she'd better get moving before they had to get on the bus. "Yeah, you're right."

Hiro shoved his hands in his pockets. He gave Callaghan a wary look that Machiko picked up on immediately. Literally everyone else in the room looked at him with almost hero-worship, and this guy wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. Very strange. "They're probably freaking out she's not with them," he said in a very pointed tone.

"I'm right here," she snapped. "And no one's gonna give a shit."

"They do," the Professor replied calmly, "but I called and told them you were with me."

Machiko twitched. "When did you do that?!"

"When you decided to wander away and sneak into an area clearly marked _Danger_," he maintained his patient tone, but she could see the steely look in his eyes again.

She backed down. No way was she gonna jeopardize the possibility of coming here. "Oh. Kay. See ya," she waved flippantly at Hiro, who forced a smile and waved back and with a last wary look at Callaghan turned away. Machiko strode out the doors, glancing back when she heard the soft footsteps of Callaghan following. "He really doesn't like you," she remarked in her naturally blunt tone.

"You're a very perceptive young woman." She snapped a look at him—no, he wasn't being sarcastic, she thought; that was a genuine compliment. Okay, well, whatever; she'd take it. "Mr. Hamada and I have had a rocky relationship. I was unfortunately involved when his brother died in a fire last year." He shook his head. "It's a complicated situation. He is also the inventor of the microbot technology."

Microbots… "You mean the things Yokai uses."

He flicked a glance at her. "Most people do not know what they are."

"I pay attention," she replied wryly. General populace might not know, but the homeless network was a marvelous thing and far more powerful than any paper. Plus she had a nice up close and personal experience with the damned things. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"We disagree on certain legislation concerning them. Again, it's complicated."

She nodded, accepting this. "Well, that's shitty. 'Bout the bots. And the fire."

"Yes, I suppose it is. Do your parents know you use such foul language?"

Immediately her face closed. She grunted and walked faster, shoving the outside doors open and into the sunlight. "You always this nosy?"

"I used to have a daughter of my own." His voice had turned suddenly sad. Machiko winced and moved on quickly—comfort was not her forte. As far as she was concerned, everyone had their sad stories. Hers just happened to drink a lot, among other things, but she'd learned no one would listen or care. So why should she?

"Sorry," she muttered, figuring she at least owed him that for being so nice. Oh god, what if she reminded him of her. No, ugh, no. She couldn't handle that.

As if he'd read her mind, he gave a sad laugh. "You're nothing like Abigail, Miss Arashi."

Machiko cringed. "Ah—Machiko, please. And I'm kinda relieved to hear that."

"Why's that?"

She looked up at him. He seemed genuinely interested, so she gave a derisive laugh. "If she were anything like me I'd feel so, so bad for you."

His brow furrowed, narrowing his gray-blue eyes in confusion. Machiko studied his face a moment—really looked this time. His confusion, along with the hardness she'd witnessed earlier, looked out of place on his kind face creased with both smile and frown lines. It was weathered; this face had seen too much. Machiko wondered if her own would look like that in fifty years.

Hopefully she'd be alive by then.

The Professor was silent as they walked across the green. Machiko really wanted to shake this guy by now; she couldn't help but feel he was just babysitting her until he could hand her off to another adult. The thought irritated her and she began to walk faster.

Finally she couldn't stop herself. "Uh… don't you have a class or something?" She tried hard to sound polite. "I don't want to… keep you."

"It is no problem. I'd hate for you to get lost."

She bristled. "I don't get lost."

"Never?"

"If I do, I find my way back," she replied shortly, her ire rising. She took a deep breath and focused on the grass. She couldn't lose her temper here and have Monster come racing to find her. She'd impressed upon it that it needed to stay hidden above all else, but if she lost it the creature might not be able to control itself.

"All right," he said gently, "if you insist." He stopped walking.

Surprised, she glanced at him, but she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth, so she nodded shortly, gave a slight wave, and sped off by herself.

/

Robert Callaghan watched her go. His expression remained calm and gentle, but inside his brain was ticking. There was no mistaking the girl he'd fought the other night—fought and almost killed. Had _tried _to kill. It had been dark but her voice and mannerisms were the same.

He hadn't expected the eldritch horror of a creature to come to her aide. It hadn't shown up until he had physically attacked her, or she had summoned it. Perhaps it operated similarly to the microbots.

He remembered how after she had fallen unconscious it had calmed down abruptly, only reacting defensively to his attacks, and focused on running away. It had had the presence of mind to pick her up and protect her from further damage as well hide from him, but not much more than that. In that it was more advanced than his bots; it obviously had some sort of brain.

Well, it wouldn't stop him from killing her if she got in his way again, but he definitely wanted to keep an eye on this one—the same way he did to those who called themselves "Big Hero 6" by allowing them to stay at the University, and they kept an eye on him. At the same time he had to make sure she wasn't caught up in their ridiculous hero outfit. In this it was fortunate she was more interested in biology than engineering. Their paths wouldn't cross that much, and Hiro had been immediately turned off by the fact that she was in any way associated with him. That worked out just fine.

He hadn't expected that amount of explosive anger out of a tiny fifteen-year-old girl. There was something else going on there; it was not normal for a child to be _that _angry _all the time_. The fury she'd shown him at the docks had obviously blinded her to what she was doing, as obvious as it was when she'd stopped fighting him—as if she suddenly remembered exactly who she was up against. And she'd obviously been having difficulty reigning in her temper when she spoke to him. It was just as obvious that she was uncomfortable with anyone showing her any sort of kindness, and her self-esteem was close to zero if the comment about her and Abigail being similar told him anything.

Her rage could be used, perhaps. The creature's destructive power could be channeled through the girl; if he controlled her he had no doubt he could control it. But first he'd have to get a better idea as to what it was and how it worked. Which meant he needed to befriend her.

Yes, he'd recommend she went to the University. He wanted in on this particular project.

Machiko was out of sight by now. Silently he turned and headed back towards the robotics lab. She was right; he had class in fifteen minutes. He'd mull this over more later.


	3. Rage

She met Monster in the alleyway behind her dad's house. Each breath felt like a spear being driven through her ribs. One of her shoulders clenched painfully every time she tried to lift her right arm, which made it difficult for her to squeeze through her bedroom window. The cool breeze of autumn pushed her sweat-soaked hair off her face and dried her running mascara.

Her anger suppressed the pain. The emotional agony she covered with hatred. Her breath came from between clenched teeth, trying to be quiet as to not alert the drunken man on the bottom floor. Her knees both had rugburns and splinters and bruises spotted her ribs. Machiko used the adrenaline to fuel her movements.

She pushed off the wall and fell trustingly towards the ground. Monster grew legs and opened them to catch her. Its flesh was as soft as it could make it to not cause her more agony.

The girl staggered when she was put on the ground and her monstrous friend held out spiny legs to steady her. For a few minutes she allowed herself to hang onto the long, toothy snout it had now and take deep, ragged breaths to keep from crying. Crying never solved anything.

Monster grew pincers and mandibles, its long head melting back to something more insectoid, and folded them across her protectively. She swallowed hard.

"Two years, three months," she whispered to it. "Sixteen days."

It purred breathily.

"Two years, three months, sixteen days till we're eighteen, buddy. We just gotta live that long."

It held her closer.

She took a deep breath and stood straight. Monster let her go and she started down the alleyway, the creature quietly skittering along behind her, now resembling a mantis-centipede thing. Her anger grew as she walked.

None of her injuries were severe enough to stop her from doing anything. It would hurt, but she'd done things while hurt before.

Monster let out a low keening sound. A glance back showed spines slowly rising off its back as it responded to her ire, and it was a lot less careful about the sounds it made.

Without her saying a word it picked her up again and deposited her on its back. Clawlike pincers grew to hold her in place and it suddenly bounded forward, swiftly scaling the next building over to the roof. Machiko's stomach dropped out from underneath her, forcing a high-pitched giggle from her lips.

Monster exploded into a run, leaping from roof to roof, scaling buildings, keeping to the shadows of the night. Machiko held onto its spiny back, heedless of anything digging uncomfortably into her skin. It ran faster and faster, wilder and wilder as she lost herself in the rush of the leaping and falling and dizzying height.

It launched itself from a skyscraper, landing seven stories down on top of another building, and let out a cry to match her wild laughter. It was the skyscraper that made her realize they were being too loud, too obvious, and responding to that Monster immediately dipped below the skyline.

On the way down she caught a glimpse of something dark, gleaming and slithering.

She grinned.

"Time for round two, buddy," she hissed. It hunkered down clinging to the side of the factory's wall, creeping forward until she could see Yokai across the street. He appeared to be looking for something.

Not that she cared what he was doing, only that here was an outlet to get out her frustration and aggression.

They followed him back down towards the docks. Monster put her down and she slid into the open window of a car, swiftly and expertly hotwiring it and releasing the brake. Yokai would expect Monster to attack first. _Let's see how he likes this_.

This time she kept the headlights off and let it roll slowly down the street after the masked villain. Only when she was at the top of the next hill did she suddenly throw it into gear and slam the pedal to the floor, sending it screaming towards him.

He whipped around, automatically raising a tendril of microbots to bash her aside, but she was prepared, and spun the car around in a circle around him the opposite way and putting on the brights. He flinched, putting up a hand automatically to shield his eyes, and she used the moment's distraction the gun it right for him.

Microbots exploded in all directions, but he'd already had them throw him clear at the last second. His motions were smooth, disciplined and in complete control. He was at home with the tiny robots. They caught him, cradled him, returned him to standing and an arm slammed the back of the car, sending her spinning. She slammed on the brakes. He rose above her, a giant hammer flowing from the black mass that held him, and readied to smash her into smithereens.

Which was when Monster attacked.

One blow from its giant lobster-like tail sent microbots scattering every which way. Machiko laughed hoarsely and put the car in reverse, then zoomed right for him again, but the car was suddenly lifted into the air as they created a ramp to send her flying into the air and right over his head.

_Oh, shit_.

The car plummeted. Monster reacted to her panic and, panicking in turn, dove underneath it to prevent it from hitting the pavement. Pain blasted her brain as the car slammed into soft flesh.

Her head cracked against the steering wheel. Stars exploded in front of her eyes. Dimly she felt something curl around her waist and drag her from the car, Monster screaming, then falling again—only to be caught by spiny arms and set down gently.

She struggled to her feet and faced Yokai again. The world spun, and Monster wavered in confusion between her and the masked man.

"Fuck," she spat, "you."

He looked at her full in the face and raised a hand. The ground roiled in front of them, then a spear formed and directed itself towards her chest.

Monster threw itself in front of it.

It entered its side and emerged out the other, inches from her face. But Machiko couldn't see it; she was too busy collapsing to her already bruised knees as an all-consuming agony filled her vision. The air was gone from her lungs; she couldn't scream any more. She simply writhed in pain on the cold damp ground, the mental strain blinding her, filling her ears with a high-pitched keening. She tasted blood—she'd bitten her tongue, her teeth clenched so tight she felt they might break.

Monster fell beside her, the spear retracting from its middle. The gaping hole left in its side began to close. The pain began to fade.

_Fury _took hold.

The creature was her friend, her companion, her protector, an extension of herself; connected to her emotions for as long as she could remember. It was all she had left since Rowdy died. It was her everything. _How dare _he hurt it.

How _dare _he!

The shifting, changing mass of flesh picked her up and suddenly everything was working. They were one together, just as Yokai was one with his army of bots. He threw spire after spire; they dodged, flattening to the walls then rolling over, its top becoming its belly and vice versa. They whirled around and lashed him with a tail, then formed crablike pincers and broke the columns supporting the supervillain. He fell, roiled back up, and sent what had to be sixteen deadly spears at them.

Agony filled them as two ripped into flesh. They screamed together and attacked again, but how could you fight something that just reformed? Monster couldn't eat them, they'd explode out of it. Every time they were knocked away they just rejoined the others.

But Yokai was being driven back, back towards the water. They were gaining. Flesh healed as soon as it was torn and broken bones dissolved back into its body. It protected Machiko at all costs, enraged and afraid and broken and taking all of her hatred out on the one creature no one would care if they _beat into the ground—_

It was there that her thoughts became disjointed, and she pulled back in confusion. What…?

Snarling, Monster jammed to a halt. They were right at the edge of the water. Yokai slid off the docks, pulling back into the night, though he stopped when he realized they weren't following.

Monster wavered on the pier. Machiko put a hand to her head, pressing the heel of her palm against the sizeable knot that had formed from hitting the steering wheel. Her companion was a mess of too many legs and stingers and teeth sprouting everywhere, a reflection of her pained confusion.

Well, they couldn't follow. She felt her stomach lurch, unpleasantly this time, at the mere thought of going into those dark depths, and Monster veered away. They were both physically and mentally exhausted and nowhere near beating the silent, dark figure waiting several hundred feet into the ocean. Yokai looked no worse for the wear. Again, he didn't even show any fatigue or pain, though it was hard to see in the pitch black of the night.

She flipped him off for good measure as they turned and ran away.

The fight, though leaving her banged-up but good, made her feel… peaceful, almost. She leaned back against the spiny flesh of her friend and stared up at the sky as it carted her away from the docks. No stars—the city was too bright. It was sad. Machiko had never seen the stars.

"I hope he didn't follow us," she muttered. All she needed was for Yokai to find out where she lived and come to get rid of the nuisance while she was sleeping or something.

Not that she could sleep _now_. She felt better _emotionally_, but her injuries required attention and she had school in the morning.

Summer had passed and she'd since started classes at the Institute. It was glorious and as freeing as she'd thought, and she spent more and more time at school. The excuse to stay away from home goaded her to pushing her luck and, unfortunately, her dad had caught on.

She refused to think about it. Right now all she needed was some aspirin and to have Monster rest and recover. It may have been able to heal immediately from wounds, but the energy required to do so meant it needed to consume something, whether it be trash or stray animals. Machiko hated the thought of animals being eaten for its sustenance but really… it had to eat, too. Not that what it did qualified as actual "eating"…

Monster hoisted her up to her window and she slid in, limping around to clean up and change. Tylenol was located in her bedside drawer, but in order to get ice for her throbbing head she'd have to go downstairs and there was no way in _hell _she was going to do that.

A quick glance at the clock told her it was just about 4:30 AM. She'd have to get up in an hour and a half anyway for school, so she might as well take the long route, get some breakfast… maybe stop at the Institute to take a shower…

Warming to the idea (and she'd spend more time with Monster!) she quickly gathered her books, some money from her stash in her mattress and a towel into her backpack and dropped it out the window for the creature to catch, then did the same to herself.

College was on the other side of town as her high school so she napped on the way there on Monster's back. It stopped when it could go no further without being seen, and, wincing, Machiko slid from its back and limped the rest of the way. Her body was aching but she wouldn't take the Tylenol until she could actually _eat _something, first. She'd taken the medicine on an empty stomach once. That hadn't been the best day.

She did of course have the pain meds given to her from the hospital. But those were for experimenting with, and she didn't want to be utterly high for her college classes.

"Two years," she chanted to herself. She was a Junior now. She could wait two more years.

The morning was a blur; she snagged some breakfast from the dining hall, took her meds and hopped in the shower (and fell asleep under the hot water, god did it feel good on her aching body). She only just arrived in time for homeroom at her high school. One of the stipulations for going to the college was she couldn't skip any more school.

They had her by the throat for this one. In order to take the classes at the Institute, she basically had to be a model student. Fortunately the rest of the student body didn't seem to know this or they might have decided to push their luck with her temper. The end result was that any aggression Machiko would have gotten out at school she swallowed, deep down among the constant building pressure inside her chest.

The rest of the day went by fairly smoothly… until she vomited suddenly and realized she very likely had a concussion.

_I'm gonna get brain damage if I keep doing this, _she thought grimly as she was sent for the nurse's office. _Not that that's really a waste._

Or anyone would care…

Classes at the university were just as amazing as she thought. All of a sudden she had access to the most expensive and advanced labs in the province. They were so difficult that she forewent all other homework to study for them until she was casually told by her professor she needed chemistry courses in order to pursue an actual major when she graduated high school… which required math.

Well, hell, she thought, staring at her as she smiled and continued to the next student. She knew exactly what she'd just done, and she _knew _she'd only done it to get her to try harder but damn if it didn't work! The math teacher was startled to see Machiko suddenly paying attention in class, raising her hand to ask questions and beginning to turn in homework. Most of which of course was wrong, but she was _trying_ and that in and of itself was remarkable.

And it kept her busy and out of trouble, the principal noted to himself and close faculty with relief.

Besides, no one could _prove _it was her who smashed the windows out of the first floor.

Machiko, who really didn't (this time), was peeved someone had the nerve to do such a thing and get _her _under suspicion, but really she couldn't do much about it and instead ignored the rumors. Once the students figured out she was actually _attending _college classes early they were pissed in turn. Why did the trouble-maker get this distinction? She wasn't even that intelligent…

The whispers flying around pissed her off to no end. Machiko much preferred sitting quietly under a tree at the campus, working on her own thing and being ignored by the rest of the populace.

"I see you here every time I head over to the lab," a voice said. The girl put a finger where she stopped reading and slowly lifted her gaze to that of Professor Callaghan, who stood a few feet away with his hands in his pockets and a book under his arm, a smile on his warm face.

"Hey." She stretched and pushed the sunglasses back up her nose. "It's my favorite spot."

"I can see that. You know, you'd do much better in a study group instead of alone."

Machiko looked down uncomfortably, then shrugged. "I guess."

"Do you want help finding one?"

"I…" she swallowed her pride. "I don't like… being close to people."

He tilted his head, brow furrowing ever so slightly. "Why's that? I take it you don't mean physically."

"That too." She sighed. The professor had been so nice to her she felt bad pushing him away. That, and she'd learned he was an enormous figure in the university. He was popular and well-liked, incredibly intelligent and was instrumental in many of the discoveries that made the Institute one of the most prestigious schools in the country. If she was on his good side it was a good thing.

She struggled with wording for a moment. Callaghan interrupted her internal turmoil by adding, "It's not that bright out."

"Uh… what?"

He indicated her sunglasses. "It's cloudy and you're reading a book."

She stiffened and turned away. "I like them."

"You've never worn them before."

"I like them today."

He slowly sat down beside her—not close enough to make her uncomfortable, but she still eyed him from the side of the glasses.

She didn't expect his next words. "I'm trying to help you, Machiko."

She bent her head towards the ground, staring hard at an ant crawling to the tip of a blade of grass.

"But I can't, if you don't give me something in return."

"That's how it always is, isn't it," she replied bitterly. "No such thing as a free lunch. There's no such thing as pure selflessness. You always have to _give _to _get._ I don't know what your angle is yet, Professor, but you have one. It's not just to see me succeed."

There was a long silence. Callaghan studied her without saying a word, and Machiko did her damned best to push down her anger and take a deep breath. She looked down at the pencil she'd snapped in half and her lips thinned in aggravation. She couldn't even control herself when she was angry. What use was she?

"I'm sorry," she said finally.

He remained silent.

"I—I'm not used to people being nice." Her fingers dug into the dirt and pulled up a clod of grass. "It's confusing."

A glance told her his face was still gentle, and his eyes were kind. "I'm sure you have your friends, your family."

"I don't have friends. I don't want friends. The only family I know of is my dad." She regretted it the moment she said it. Callaghan had had a daughter once, she remembered him saying; she didn't want him to get all mushy and sad.

"I'm sure he loves you."

Her lips curled back and the hatred that had been on low simmer boiled over. She slapped her book shut, startling him, and shoved her things into her knapsack, lurching to her feet.

"Machiko—"

Whirling, she slammed her fist into the trunk of the tree. A dull shock of pain traveled up her arm. Callaghan took a step back in surprise, then reached out. "Stop!"

She punched the tree again and was rewarded by a sharp _crack_. The dull pain became a sharp spear, and she stumbled back, dropping her things. The group of students passing their tree looked over, and their faces would have been comical if she were paying attention to them. But she wasn't, because all of a sudden Callaghan's hand fastened with shocking strength around her wrist.

Machiko stopped, breathing hard and shaking. It took several minutes for her to get her pain under control, and she pulled away from him. He released her reluctantly.

"What," he said sharply, moving so he was in between her and the tree, "was that about?"

"Nothing," she replied, letting out a sharp breath. Great, just great. It was her dominant hand, too. "Ow, _fuck_."

"You punched a tree."

Gritting her teeth Machiko picked up her knapsack again with her other hand. "Sorry, okay? _Ow_. I can't… I don't control myself when I lose my temper. I have to… dammit _ow_. I have to take it out on something. I'd rather it be me. Owww." She paused to ward off a wave of pain. "_Damn _it!"

"Machiko…" Callaghan dragged a hand through his gray hair. "You can't attack yourself when you're angry. Or a heavy inanimate object."

"No," she growled through clenched teeth. "I _can_, but I shouldn't." She straightened. "I think I'm done studying today."

"You need to go to the infirmary," he sighed. "Your hand is broken."

"I got some pain meds."

"No, Machiko." Again with the tone of steel. He moved again and her vision was filled with his dull mauve sweater vest. Machiko backed up in a hurry. "You're going to the infirmary."

Hell. She had to, now. With a sigh she forced herself to bottle her anger up again and bow her head in acquiescence. "Fine."

He insisted on walking her there—probably to make sure she actually went—and even stood beside her as a nurse examined her hand.

Machiko kept her head down and her sunglasses on. She still didn't know why Callaghan was being so damn nice, but she'd figure it out. He'd even admitted it; that she needed to give him something in return. Well, that was normal. Machiko had never met anyone who _didn't _want something in return for niceness. She probably never would. She was of the firm belief that such people didn't exist.

She thanked the professor quickly when they were done and fled before she made even more of a fool of herself. She trudged home, in a sour mood. How dumb could she be? She went and screwed up the only beneficial relationship in her entire life.

The girl decided to forgo her leftover homework and get _hella drunk_.


	4. Broken

**A/N:** Ugh this chapter still isn't right. But whatever.

She woke up in a gutter.

That in and of itself wasn't unusual. What was unusual was she didn't have any new bruises or broken bones, and the splint on her hand was intact. What happened…?

Groaning, Machiko hoisted herself up and pressed a hand to her head. She had the _worst _hangover. Her head throbbed violently in tune with her pulse and the world spun… turning, the girl heaved and vomited everywhere, by luck alone missing her own lap. She leaned against the concrete wall and closed her eyes, breathing heavily and spitting out the last of the bile.

She couldn't tell which was worse, keeping her eyes shut or open. And she needed water. And she ached in strange places. And her head, oh her _head_.

_Okay, focus. You can figure out what happened later. First find out where you are and how to get home. _Poor Monster. It wasn't here, so she had to assume it was hunkered down somewhere as miserable as she was and disoriented and confused. Which meant, of course, that it couldn't come to her aid if needed.

Slowly she turned in a circle. If she could just find a landmark—anything—she could find her way home. No, not home. It wasn't safe there when she was already incapacitated. She had to find somewhere else to go. Machiko had stashes of clothes and things everywhere around the city; she had no idea when or where she'd end up and need somewhere to hunker down and wait until whatever was going on blew over.

Speaking of things… she checked her pockets. Nope, no phone. Dammit. Dad was going to be so mad.

A train whistled in the distance. Machiko pivoted and nearly fell over again. She grabbed the fence nearby to hold her steady. Okay if the train was over _there_, going in _that _direction… nope, her head hurt too much. Machiko rubbed her eyes, smearing her makeup, and then felt even more gritty and nasty. Her throat burned with bile and her hand throbbed.

Somehow she managed to turn herself around and walk. The road directed her upwards on one of those horrible hills (thought she admitted to herself that if she were driving them she wouldn't be cursing them so viciously). Her muscles protested as she forced herself up the hill. The road was straight, but to her hungover head it twisted and turned.

She heard voices and lowered herself carefully down behind a car. This area was dangerous (wherever she was) and she didn't know any of the gangs around here. Most of them would leave her alone if she didn't have any valuables, but she didn't fancy getting raped tonight or ever.

They passed her by and she got up to continue, pausing for a moment to puke again. Bearings were starting to come together—train was over there; that was the bridge—so she was like four miles from home, maybe. She pressed her unbroken hand to her forehead, scrunching her eyes together. One of her hideouts was near here. Somewhere. If it hadn't already been found by gangs or junkies.

"Hey!"

Machiko stumbled to a halt and looked behind her carefully. From the darkness behind the streetlamp's glow four young men—well, she thought they were men; there was someone who looked androgynous—sauntered forth. The leader pulled a cigarette from his lips and grinned at her. "Whatcha doin out here in the dark, pretty thing?"

"None of your fucking business, asshole," she spat back, and the aggression in her voice caused them to pause for a moment. "Why don't you go back home and diddle your little dicks to furry porn, huh? Fuck off."

For a second they just stared at her. She stood ramrod straight, refusing to sway back and forth and show weakness.

"Bitch," the leader said finally, "you just pissed off the wrong people."

"Come and get me," she snarled, then turned and ran.

Normally she would have lunged right for them. Normally she would have picked up the nearest heavy object and swung it right at them. Normally wasn't now, because the world was tilting and her brain throbbed in pain and she was starving and dehydrated and her eyes were so dry and gritty she couldn't see anything—

Someone grabbed her arm and she stumbled, the cloth tearing. The gang was laughing as they caught up to her, pulling at her clothes; she saw one of them had a knife. Panic screamed in her brain. Monster should have roused itself by now; where was it?! No time—she bit down on someone's wrist, digging her teeth as far into the skin as possible. He howled in pain and suddenly she was free enough to dig an elbow into someone else's gut.

Her feet pounded the sidewalk again, scrambling on wet pavement. The streets flowed around her. Monster, where was Monster? Belatedly she remembered it'd dropped her off on the other side of the city for school. It could be anywhere by now.

She must have taken a wrong turn somewhere because a fence loomed in front of her in the dark, appearing all of a sudden and making her skid to a halt. But there was shouting behind her; she had no choice. Machiko scrambled up the links. Something wrapped around her forearm as she swung over the top. Her adrenaline kept her from feeling it right away.

And then the pain set in.

She _screamed_, falling to the ground. The barbed wire, loosened from its perch atop the fence, tightened around her forearm as she hit the pavement _hard_. There she froze, sobbing in pain and scrabbling at her arm. The shouts got closer.

Then something like a jet shot above her, and a young male voice called "Baymax! Take care of her!"

Something heavy landed next to her. She lifted a hand to shield her eyes, the brightness making her head pound and her stomach roil.

"Hello," said a calm, pleasant voice. "I am Baymax. You have fallen and seem to have received injuries. I will scan you now."

Baymax… she remembered someone saying something about him. It was a robot, right; she'd seen it around the campus once or twice. Her breath hissed from between clenched teeth.

"Scan complete. You have numerous injuries that require my attention. From a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?"

"I—don't—" She struggled to think past the pain. "Eight?"

"Please remain calm while I remove the wire around your right forearm."

"No, don't," she gasped. "Hurts—"

"I will use an antiseptic." She couldn't see what it was doing, but a heavy metal glove hit the ground a moment later, followed by another one, and then a large, soft white hand reached down and slid under her shoulder. Machiko closed her eyes as it worked. Soon the agony ripping into her arm deadened and she felt the sickening sensation of the barbs being plucked from flesh. Looking down, her chest heaved at the sight of her lacerated skin and she shuddered. "I… I think I'm gonna have to puke."

In one smooth motion the robot rolled her over onto her side, right as it pulled the rest of the wire out of her arm. It held her steady as she heaved and vomited for the second time. Something washed over the cuts. It stung and she whimpered quietly.

"How's she doing?" The voice was young, about her age. Machiko didn't even try to look. Her eyes were squinted shut and tears streamed down her cheeks, to her utter humiliation.

"Her injuries must be tended to immediately." The calm voice was meant to be soothing but it was anything but to Machiko at the moment. _Shut up, just shut up, god it hurts and I fucked up, I fucked up bad why can't I do anything right—did I miss school? Are they gonna kick me out? God no, please, I won't ever drink again. I'm such a fuckup…_

She tried to muffle her sobs. "It is all right to cry," Baymax said helpfully. "Crying is a natural response to pain."

"Don't touch me," she hissed as she felt those young hands on her.

"Okay, okay." They withdrew. "Uh… what were you doing out here alone?"

Her lips curled back in a snarl and someone else spoke. "C'mon, man. That's not what she wants to hear right now." The voice was deeper; older. She'd heard it before. "Hey. What's your name?"

She clenched her teeth together, unsure if she wanted to tell them. Finally she whispered, "Machiko."

"Machiko, hey. It's gonna be all right." She cracked open an eye to see a large black man with dreads and a visor over his face staring down at her in concern. She knew that guy. She'd talked to him. He probably didn't recognize her, all banged up and in the dark with smeared makeup. "We're going to take you to the hospital after Baymax is through. Don't worry, he's really good at what he does."

A glance told her the white robot was done cleaning out the wounds and was stitching them up, though she didn't feel a thing. What she did feel was disgust and self-hatred and dizziness and a throbbing headache.

It was wrapping her arm in gauze now. Where it got all these supplies, and where it stored them, she had no idea.

"Your arm is finished." Its squishy fingers wriggled their way under her and she was hoisted into the air. "I suggest you are checked into a hospital. Your blood alcohol level is: high. You should not be left alone."

"Alcohol? You're not _that _old."

"Oh, fuck you," she spat.

"Whoa, okay, chill—"

She felt Monster before she heard it. It was funny, how sometimes she knew it was going to show up before it actually did. It _screeched_, scrambling down the wall, not knowing anything but that she was in pain and she needed it. Everyone was yelling now and springing into action. Machiko shifted in Baymax's arms.

"No," she whispered. "Wait, no, leave it alone…"

"Baymax! Get her out of here!"

"I must not leave—"

"You got a new patient now! Get her to the hospital!"

Machiko closed her eyes and concentrated as hard as she could. Baymax had shifted around to put its gauntlets back on and then blasted off, leaving her stomach on the ground below them. She heaved, but Monster cried out in distress, leaping over buildings to follow, and she felt pain lance her skull each time they landed an attack on it. The strange double-thoughts invaded her mind again

"Leave it alone!" she tried to gasp, but her voice was a croak. _Hide! Hide! Quiet, calm, don't fight, hide… FOLLOW! FOLLOW! NO. Hide._

It didn't want to. It wanted, no, needed to follow and protect. It knew what she really wanted. But it acquiesced reluctantly, having no other choice. The young adults were attacking it; all they knew was it was large and scary and looked like something from their worst nightmares. Machiko lost contact with it shortly after that. The sudden break with its mind (was that what it was?) made her reel, and she returned to her own body with a jolt.

_So this is what it's like to fly, _she thought blearily. Too bad she was too hungover to really experience it. The cool air of approaching winter helped her headache but aggravated the horrible tears in her skin. They were descending now, and landed, and then there were people talking quickly. Baymax's voice was clear and calm over theirs, telling them of her injuries and what exactly had been done to help her. Machiko wasn't listening at that point. The fabric of a stretcher cradled her aching body and she felt like puking again.

"I must return to my primary patient now."

A blast of light and heat, and it was gone.

Machiko decided she'd had enough and lost herself to unconsciousness.

/

"Miss?"

Machiko rolled her head to the side, wincing. Her neck was stiff and though she no longer felt like puking her head still swam. But she was no longer in a lot of pain. "Yeah?" she muttered.

The nurse, whose nametag said "Candy", sat beside her bed. "We've been trying to contact your parents, but we need more of a name than 'Machiko'," she told her gently. "Can you give us your contact info? You need someone to look after you."

"Oh. I can check myself out."

"I'm sorry, honey, but you're not of age yet." Candy's tone was gentle, but a little reproachful. "We haven't called the police yet, though I'm sure you're aware you're too young to be drinking. I need to contact your parents."

Slow panic crept through her. "No, don't—don't call him. Don't call my dad."

A pause. "Okay…" The fear in the girl's eyes preyed on the nurse's instincts. It was a little too much for just a fear of parental wrath and grounding. "Is there someone we _can _call?"

"Um…" Who else was there? Her mind cast about. If she could just get out of the hospital, she'd be fine. She had to talk to her principal. She had to—"Uh, how… long… what day is it?"

"Saturday afternoon. It's about… two o'clock."

_Saturday?_ Man her internal clock was really screwed up. Last she knew it was Thursday after Uni. Which meant… her blood ran cold. She'd lost an _entire day _of school. Normally this wouldn't bother her, but now… oh god, what was she going to do?

"Honey?" The woman's voice cut through her thoughts. The nurse was really concerned, she realized. Probably the first nurse who ever cared enough to give her the benefit of the doubt. Machiko usually chose different clinics and hospitals to go to each time no matter how far away they are to avoid being flagged as a recurring patient. Maybe Candy was new or something. She looked pretty young for a nurse.

"I—Callaghan." The name fell out of her mouth before she realized it. But… who else was there? "Professor, uh, Robert Callaghan."

The nurse regarded her solemnly, feeling like she should say something else, but in the end simply nodded. "Callaghan? Okay… do you know his phone number?"

"It's in my—" Phone. The one that was gone. "Um. Ess-FIT. He's a teacher there. You could look it up on their faculty webpage. Please?"

Candy sighed quietly and sat down on the edge of the bed. The girl looked absolutely miserable and had gotten pretty badly torn up, which was the only reason she decided to forgo the usual Underage Drinking Speech she gave to first-timers in the hospital for this very reason. "Okay. I'll call this Professor. For the record, what is his relationship to you?"

What _was _his relationship to her? Machiko hesitated. "I… don't… he helped me get in. Mentor? Teacher? I dunno." To her disgust she heard tears in her voice. "Just not my dad."

"It's okay, Miss Arashi." Machiko didn't bother to correct her. "I'll call Professor Callaghan.

She nodded (then winced) and closed her eyes. "Yeah," she muttered, somehow now feeling even worse. "Thanks."

Hopefully she'd made the right choice.

/

He had been going over tests when the phone rang. As soon as they said the word _Machiko _he threw his coat on and ran out the door. After he'd made her get her hand fixed she'd gone and vanished on him; he'd searched for her in the streets to no avail. He figured she'd show up to attack him as Yokai at least, but not even her pet creature had made a peep. Despite the fact that he'd still kill her if the opportunity presented itself as Yokai (he'd come close after she'd forced him to abandon his project on the docks the last time), he had a front to maintain.

She looked like death on the cot in the hospital even though she was sitting up and eating. Her eyes were lowered and she refused to look him in the face.

The nurse was talking but he didn't care, surprising himself with the amount of concern he felt for the young woman despite her meddling and apparent death wish. "Machiko."

She hunched her shoulders, still refusing to look at him. He studied her for a long moment and sighed. "Come on."

They checked out and he got her situated in his car. For a long moment they sat there, and then Callaghan asked finally, "Where did you go?"

Machiko took a deep breath. "I—I don't know."

"They said your blood alcohol level—"

"I know. I know, okay? I fucked up." He was shocked to hear the thickness of tears in her throat as she spoke. "I fucked up like I always do. I went out and got drunk and I missed a whole _day _and I don't know what happened. I got mad and I _fucked up_."

He took a deep breath and started the car. "You got drunk. Machiko, you're lucky you weren't _arrested_."

"Arrested woulda been better. I'm lucky I wasn't raped," she replied bitterly. "Those superheroes chased the assholes off." He twitched at the mention.

"How did you get your arm so torn up?" He backed the car out of the space and started down the parking garage.

"I—I climbed over a fence." She rubbed her face with her unbandaged hand. "I didn't see the barbed wire. Too hungover."

"Machiko," horrified, he closed his eyes briefly. She could have gotten all sorts of diseases from the rusted metal. "What am I going to do with you?" He paused and looked over at her when he slowed at the toll booth. "Why didn't you have them call your dad?"

She didn't answer the question, but pressed her lips together uncomfortably and tensed up. "I—I'm sorry. This was stupid. I just needed someone to get me out of the hospital, okay? You're the first person who came to mind." She closed her eyes and leaned back in the seat. "Just drop me off over on the corner. I'll find a way back."

"I'm not dropping you off anywhere," he replied firmly. "If you won't go home, you're coming home with me."

What? Had she heard right? She stared at him from the corner of her eye. "Home with… you?"

"That's right." He turned the corner.

"I… but…" She turned her head all the way to face him and winced when the car hit a pothole. Why would he let her come home with him? "You're not worried?"

His brow arched and he glanced over at her. Her face was honestly confused past the haziness that was her hangover and waning pain medication. "Worried about… what, exactly?" he asked casually, keeping one eye on the road and one on her face.

Machiko mulled this over for several minutes. It was difficult—every time they hit a bump or a turn her head swam and she had to start over. "Most people," she replied finally, carefully, "don't let me over their house. They're afraid I'll… do things."

"You mean steal."

"Or, you know, wreck shit. Yeah." She folded bony fingers over each other.

"Do you?"

A glance told him her smile was bitter. "I go joyriding sometimes, what do you think?"

An idea sparked in his brain. He tried to push it aside for the time being, but it grew to a flame and licked persistently at his mind. Perhaps he didn't need to kill her. Her destructive behavior could be channeled properly and as a father the thought of her self-hatred made him cringe. That just wasn't necessary, and unfounded. But what if he could show her she _could _be something? Right now he didn't believe anyone had ever told her she could. A "fuckup" she thought she was so a "fuckup" was what she'd be.

Callaghan tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, slowing to a stop for a red light. "I think you need to use those powers of yours for good," he said finally. "You're intelligent, Machiko. Why don't you channel that intelligence into something you really want, and not mindless destruction?"

His tone was so mild she looked at him sharply. That wasn't the type of response she'd expected. "Intelligent," she echoed.

"Intelligent," he repeated firmly, accelerating again. "You're taking college classes as a junior in high school, Machiko."

"But—Professor," she sputtered, "anyone could do that. If you took any of those kids at my school and gave them, you know, unlimited access to a _college, _they could be geniuses! But they're not _given _a chance, they'll never be given a chance, and it's stupid that they gave it to _me_!" Her knuckles were white and her fingertips scraped the car door, inches from the latch. He accelerated just a little more so she couldn't leave. "I'm a fuckup, can't you see that? Why are you even trying with me?!"

His response was low and even. "Why did you call me instead of your father?"

Silence. Her mouth dropped open to respond, then closed again. She looked quickly out the window.

"Do you want to know why?"

More silence.

"I'll tell you. You called me because I'm the only person who ever said you could be something more. Sure, your principal made this happen. But you see it as ridding himself of you, of making you behave. He can wash his hands of you and his school will be more peaceful. Am I right about that?" The girl's face was white now and her jaw was set. The hard glint in her eyes was back—he could see it even with her head tilted towards the window. He continued in a steady tone as he drove. "You called me because you know I will not judge what you've done. There are no such things as bad students, Machiko, only bad teachers. No bad children, only bad parents." She tried to suppress the flinch but he saw it anyway.

He turned the wheel and smoothly pulled into his driveway. "I'm bothering with you because I can see someone who can shape the future. Her own future, if she would only direct herself in a more constructive manner."

He got out of the car. She didn't seem to realize they'd stopped and just sat there until he came around and opened her door. "But by all means, continue with the joyriding and mindless destruction. Let me know how that works out in the next few years."

Slowly, she slid her legs out the side, unbuckled herself and got out of the car. He helped steady her. Her steps were reluctant as he led her up his stairs to his front door, and inside.

"I trust you're not going to steal or break anything. I'd hate that trust to be broken, Machiko."

He lowered her onto the couch. She sat in utter silence.

His house was so _nice_. Machiko really hadn't seen the inside of anyone's house in detail, even her own—she spent as much time as possible in her room and wasn't aware of any changes going on downstairs. There was even a piano. On the piano were pictures of him and a young woman and a little girl—oh god, they were of his daughter. She made a mental note not to mention anything about her or the pictures.

Callaghan entered the room again. He looked tired, and Machiko was close to falling asleep. It was now late afternoon. "All right," he sighed. "Your father is rightly angry that you went out and put yourself in danger."

Her head snapped up. She ignored the pain drilling through her skull. "You told him I drank?!"

"_No, _I did not tell him that." She relaxed visibly. "But I did tell him you were safe and at my house." He gestured. "Now, I have to finish grading some papers. The shower is upstairs. Go get yourself cleaned up and come back down. I'll make some dinner. I take it you don't know where your books went?"

She shook her head miserably. He sighed again. "I'll get you some more. But _don't _lose them."

"O-Okay."

"Do you need help going upstairs?"

"No—no, I think I got it." Without another word she rolled to her feet and slunk up the proffered stairs. He heard water running a minute later and went back to his desk, satisfied.

Upstairs Machiko couldn't believe what he'd told her. He had to be lying—why would anyone want to help her? But he'd never lied to her before… why start now? Besides he didn't _have _to help her out. _What was his angle?_ What did he _want_?

She couldn't come up with an answer. She was hurt, she was exhausted, she had to take a shower with her entire right arm outside of it in order to keep it dry, and the pain meds were wearing off, leaving her dizzy and lightheaded with pain. She wanted to take some pills and _sleep_, but she refused to take any more medication in fear of what it would do to Monster, so just sleep would have to do. If she could, of course; without meds the pain would be _agonizing_.

Sometime later she stumbled back downstairs. He'd left her some of Abigail's old clothes outside the bathroom. They were a little big for her, but she wasn't complaining. Coming back to the living room and keeping her head down, she settled hesitantly into the sofa. She meant to stay awake for a while to eat the dinner he'd offered but as soon as her head hit the cushion her eyes closed and she immediately fell asleep.

She dreamed she was flying.


	5. Chains

It took him a while to smooth things over. He had to make calls to the Principle Harkin's house and talked to him in length, using his prestigious position to subtly force the man to excuse her absence. In the end he did so, but made her swear it would never happen again. And it wouldn't if she could help it; Machiko had had quite enough of drink to last her a lifetime. Or at least a couple of solid months.

When she looked back on the month she finally allowed Professor Callaghan to gain her (at least partial) trust, she had to admit that in the long run it did make her life just a little easier. It gave her a safe, stable place to do homework and catch up on missed sleep on the weekends when she went out to play with Monster in the dead of night. _And _it had the add bonus of being a little closer to both the high school and the college. Starting the week was a lot easier now.

Her anger management issues had a long way to go, however. There were still times she had to leave the room and _break _something before she took it out on someone else. At one point she went into the bathroom and sliced her fist open shattering the mirror; a classmate found her trying to stem the bleeding, her face thunderous and daring anyone to touch her.

She left before they could call a teacher, wrapped her arm up and refused to talk about it. Professor Callaghan eventually found her and made her go get it stitched up. Her poor right arm was taking a beating; the doctor told her flatly that if she didn't stop doing whatever it was she was doing to destroy it the nerves would eventually just die. They

Machiko still had to go home during the week. Life there was strained; shouting matches were just as frequent. In her spare time she doodled happy Rowdy and got furious all over again.

She and Yokai met a few times in that month. She sought him out with a sadistic _glee _of someone who was finally able to get their energy out after days of keeping it bottled up; their clashes were incredibly violent and most of the time ended when Machiko was finally drained of her anger (getting away, of course, was a different matter; it usually lasted almost as long as the fight itself).

Unfortunately near the end of said month she also discovered she had a new problem: Big Hero 6.

This complicated things. They were actively seeking Monster out, thinking it was a creature worth destroying or capturing, and it was gaining attention by the media when before it had gone entirely unseen except by the homeless network. Her strange friend was excellent at hiding, able to stretch itself long and thin and slip into the sewers when any brave adventurers got too close, but worrying and stressing about it was wearing her out.

She considered confronting them about it but that presented problems of their own. One, that would make them aware she knew who they were (though how no one else seemed to figure it out was beyond her; it's not like there was anyone else with a band of friends and a large medical robot around); two, it would alert them to the fact that _she _controlled the creature (though "control" wouldn't really be the word for it); three, it would make things incredibly awkward at school, since she'd become known as one of Callaghan's students (even though she technically wasn't a student). And they seemed to _really _dislike Callaghan.

This left absolutely no option than to continue to hide. It reminded her of being helpless and completely unable to fight her way out, which made Machiko really, _really _frustrated.

Which of course brought everything back to seeking Yokai out and taking it out on him.

She was completely aware that he'd probably end up killing her one day. He was a hardened criminal and she was some delinquent fifteen—no, she was sixteen now—year old troubled child; she freely admitted it. But she couldn't make herself care.

The professor quietly despaired the lack of progress he'd made with his plan. Krei's building would be finished early next year and he was only barely halfway done. With his meddling former students and now this girl, constructing the portal had slowed to a snail's pace. Sometimes he wondered why he didn't just smother the girl in her sleep and rid himself of the issue entirely, but every time the thought crossed his mind he was reminded of the creature that followed her—and his secondary project. It was very nearly finished with, of course, some more stolen technology from his students…

"Hey, Professor Callaghan."

He was in his office. A glance up told him who was addressing him; without so much as a frown he returned his attention to what he was working on. "Yes, what can I do for you, Mr. Hamada."

Hiro's eyelid twitched at the name. He still remembered the professor calling his brother that; it felt weird for it to be directed at him. "You got geniuses surrounding you. Prodigies. The world's best and brightest, you know, like Tadashi."

Callaghan grimaced and finally gave the angry fifteen-year-old his attention. "That I am, and I wish you would join them."

The look of disgust was probably meant to be intimidating, but it came out as pouty on his young face. Callaghan locked eyes with him. "Was there something you wanted to ask me, Mr. Hamada?"

"Yeah." The boy folded his arms. "Why are you bothering with her? You know who I'm talking about. She's not a genius, and I know how you _love _geniuses." His eyes narrowed. "Or, you know, stealing from them."

"We've already had this conversation," Callaghan replied coldly, hands tightening into fists. He had to deal with this child on a regular basis at night and didn't want to deal with him during the day. His overwhelming desire to be rid of the nuisance threatened to take hold, but no—everyone could find out who Yokai was later. He had to _finish _first. "And Machiko may not be my student, or brilliant, but you do not know the whole story. And it is none of your business."

"What, you trying to replace Abigail?"

It was the wrong thing to say, and Hiro knew it as soon as he said it. The chair fell over as Callaghan lunged to his feet, slamming his fists into his desk. He had a naturally gentle face but it was now twisted into an ugly mask of fury. "Mr. Hamada," he began, his voice soft and full of barely controlled rage, but the boy was already raising his hands in surrender.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "That—that was low."

"Get out."

Hiro nodded and turned. He hesitated at the door when Callaghan spoke again. "Abigail can _never _be replaced."

"I know."

Their eyes locked again. Hiro did know, Callaghan was aware. There was hurt in his eyes too; a brokenness that he knew was mirrored in his own. It was too bad they were on separate sides, he mused as he studied the young, weary face. Their motivations were exactly the same. The boy swallowed. "And—I know you did all you could."

The professor nodded. Tadashi had been his favorite student—he had, in fact, reminded him so much of Abigail. If either of them had been alive he would have introduced them in hopes that they'd end up together; the young man had been one of the gentlest souls he'd ever met, same as his daughter. He really had tried to save the young idiot when he'd run into the flames calling for Callaghan… he didn't know which was worse, watching Abigail vanish into the portal never to return, or seeing Tadashi slam limply into the wall, flesh burning and crisping…

The first time Hiro had confronted him about it, when he and the team had first found out he was Yokai, he'd been harsh. He'd been blinded by the anger at being discovered and desire to do away with these nuisances and he'd spat that it had been Tadashi's fault he'd died; Hiro very nearly killed him because of it. They'd both simmered down since then and Callaghan had to admit it hadn't been his best moment.

"And I think you for that," Hiro continued. "I… I really do." He swallowed again past the thickness in his throat and averted his gaze, gathering himself, then forced his eyes to meet his former professor's again. "But it won't stop me—stop _us_—from stopping _you_."

"And that," Callaghan replied, "won't stop _me_."

"Yeah," Hiro replied, heavy and sad, "I know."

Finally he turned and left the room. Callaghan took a deep breath, gathering himself, and smoothed his expression out again. He couldn't let the brat upset him like that. Most people had never seen him that angry; it might frighten his students.

With a heavy sigh to release the bottled energy he righted his chair and sat back down. He should be able to finish his secondary project tonight, then put his little plan into action. Then _finally _he might get some peace to work.

Not this afternoon, however. He was interrupted again by another child, this one a female, leaning against the doorway. He smiled at Machiko, though it faltered when he saw the fresh bruise on her cheek, and gestured to the chairs on the opposite side of his desk. She flopped into one and pulled her knees up to her chest, dropping the bookbag to the floor.

"Are you sleeping over tonight?" he asked pleasantly.

"No," she mumbled, rubbing her ruined arm. The nasty gashes caused by the barbed wire had finally healed, leaving long scars wrapped around her forearm, and the splint had finally been removed from her hand. The bandage from breaking the mirror, however, was still firmly in place.

"You can, you know. I have some things I need to do but I should be back in the morning."

"Yeah."

He looked back up at her. She seemed distracted, her eyes far away and tired. "Did you get in another fight?"

Reflexively she reached up to touch the bruise on her cheek. "Oh. No, I… fell."

He studied her face with an intenseness that would have made her nervous if she had been paying attention. But her eyes were tired and she seemed to be lost in her own little world. "Fell," he repeated, deadpan.

"Yeah." She didn't notice his expression.

There was another long silence. He continued to work. "Would the falling be from a car?" _Or from an insectoid alien shapeshifter?_

"Um." She took a deep breath, focusing on him again. "From a… car. Wh—oh, right. No, not from a car." She paused and changed the subject, rather ungainly. "Hiro looked pissed. He gave me a funny look. I kinda wanted to punch his lights out."

He noticed the subject change and frowned, but went with it. "I hope you refrained."

"Well, yeah. Why's he all weirded out I hang with you?" She wrinkled her forehead. "It's none of his damn business."

"You're right, it isn't. But Mr. Hamada has issues with me. I believe I mentioned them before."

"Yeah, I guess. Nice kid," he smiled slightly at that, but refrained from mentioning he was just as old as she was, "but a little stuck-up."

"Mr. Hamada," he paused, "likes his friends. He suffered quite a bit of loss early on and is afraid of losing more." He leaned back in his seat again to watch her. She didn't look all that well. Normally by the end of the week she was pale and exhausted. He suspected she only really slept on the weekends when she was at his house. Of course, fighting _him _took its toll on her as well. He had the benefit of not actually doing most of the physical fighting, letting his mind and microbots do all the work. He had to get her off the streets, and soon. Even with her monster friend it was dangerous, not to mention unhealthy to be up all night every night.

"I guess I can understand that," she said grudgingly. "But if he looks at me funny again I gotta at least trip him."

"No," he told her firmly.

She groaned. "Fine, but you're no fun."

"I think our definitions of 'fun' are a little different, Machiko." He smiled. "Did you need help with your homework?"

Abruptly she got distant again. "No, I—"

Her phone buzzed. Machiko's face became stone. Her father had given her a new phone, one which many students told her she was lucky for, but the only time it rang was when he called. She hated the damn thing. Slowly, very slowly, she reached into her bag and took it out. "Sorry," she muttered to the professor, who raised a hand nonchalantly.

She touched it and put it up to her ear. "…Hi, Dad."

A pause. "Yeah, I'm coming home. I gotta study for a test—" He could hear shouting from across the desk and frowned. She turned away. "No, I—I thought you were going to. Okay. Sorry. Look, I... I said I was sorry. I'll take care of it when I get home. Yeah, I'm coming home now. I," she closed her eyes as more shouting came over the speaker. Her face was pale and stressed; the face of a young kid near the breaking point. "Okay. Bye."

She put the phone back in her backpack and slowly rolled onto her feet. "Gotta go," she muttered, swinging the pack over her shoulder. "Forgot to wash the dishes."

Callaghan was watching her intently, disapproval written heavily on his features. She wished he wouldn't do that. "Was that what the shouting was about?"

She grimaced. "Heard that, huh? Yeah… I, I forget the dishes a lot." Mostly because she tried her damndest to stay upstairs. "He gets… upset… but anyway, bye." She left swiftly to get away from his sharp stare. She didn't want his sympathy concerning this.

"A year and a half," she muttered to herself as she strode on. "A year and a—"

"Hey!"

The voice was so sharp Machiko jammed to a halt and spun around. A woman—_GoGo,_ she remembered only because she was often the one speeding around on an impossibly fast bike—moved swiftly to overtake her.

"I gotta go," she snapped.

"I'm not stopping you."

Fine. Machiko swung back around and continued her quick walk, but GoGo kept up easily. "What do you want?"

"Just to warn you." She matched her, stride for stride.

_Ugh, _not more of this. Machiko didn't even want to look at her; she was one of the ones who'd hurt Monster and she couldn't even fight her without seeming the bad guy. She grit her teeth. "Look, whatever you're gonna say, don't. I'm not interested."

"Callaghan's a good man, but he gets blinded by things. That's all I'm gonna say."

"Yeah? I'll bet he'll be real happy to hear that." She redoubled her stride but _damn it _the woman wouldn't leave her the _hell _alone. She clenched her fist. "Go away, would you? I'm grateful you saved my life but that doesn't mean I gotta listen to bullshit."

Now her step faltered. "What?"

_Ha, gotcha._ "In the alleyway," Machiko continued mercilessly, "you saved me from some gangbangers. You and the rest of your clique. So thanks, but that's all I'm gonna say on the matter. So go away."

GoGo stopped. She probably would have continued, but Machiko blocked out all sounds and slammed open the front doors of the robotics lab, now almost running. She really did have to get home…

And people thought _she _had a bad temper. Wait till they met her dad.


	6. Leash

**A/N: **I went camping! And my cat's VERY excited that I'm home. She won't leave me alone. What a baby.

/

Winter vacation started out _terrible_.

Monster screeched as soon as she slid out of her window. Pigeons exploded into the air as a giant spider-slash-centipede scrambled over the roof and caught her as she fell towards the ground. She threw her arms around the warm body and its many legs clutched at her, for all the world looking like a huge tarantula in a death curl. She took deep, shuddering breaths, buried her face in its softer spines and gave a muffled scream of frustration.

She _hurt. _Her whole body throbbed, some places more than others, and the cuts on her hand were open again.

"Fuck everything!" She didn't care about being quiet this time. The week had been hell, Monster had gotten hurt by that _god damn hero outfit_, causing pain to blind her several times in class, and to top it all off she'd been on her best behavior for midterms for high school _and _finals for college. Which meant every bit of frustration, anger, hatred and aggressive instinct had been completely bottled up with no escape for over nine days.

"If they hurt you _one more time,_" she hissed to the giant creature, "I'll beat their sorry goddamn asses into the ground!"

Its whole body was shaking, mirroring her rage, and harder, sharper spines were slowly rising from its back. Eyes opened then closed and melted away; pincers and legs and jaws and teeth formed and reformed and its hard spikey soft hairy skin was warm against her cheek. "I can't even study _you _because of all this _bullshit_!"

It snarled. An eye popped open on the top of its body to look at her. She pulled back and grabbed two of its legs, jumping onto its back. Two legs twisted the other way to hold her down and it boiled up the side of the wall and onto the roof. Soon they were leaping from building to building, heading instinctively towards the docks. Machiko dared the heroes to show their faces.

"Let them," she spat to no one in particular. "Fucking let them."

Monster howled and scuttled down to the deserted road, responding to her need to get out of the cold—winter was here and the brittle air ripped at her throat. Junkies and the homeless went running; she took advantage of the car a few of them were trying to break into and slid into the seat. Hotwiring was a piece of cake and soon she was gunning it down the road, Monster racing alongside.

Stealing the car, hotwiring it; it gave her the outlet she needed for what Harkin would primly call _bad behavior_, but it didn't give her the release of aggression that destroying something would. In the very back of her mind she knew she shouldn't. But what else would she do? If she did nothing she'd go red in the middle of school and beat someone into a pulp, or _actually _break all the windows this time.

Poor Callaghan, she thought suddenly as she drove, and fought back tears. He tried so hard and what did he have to show for it? A delinquent. She was no one; a useless—

_WHAM._

It was like someone had dropped the bass to an intolerable level without warning. The shockwave of sound pounded her eardrums. The car skidded to the side, slipping on ice as she yanked on the steering wheel in a panic, barely hanging onto it through sweaty fingers and pain rippling through her body where her left arm and shoulder had jammed up against the door. Something had hit her. What had hit her?

The squeal of metal gave her little to no warning before the driver door vanished. Machiko yelped and scrambled; out of balance entirely she went pitching towards the pavement before the blackness swarmed in and plucked her out of the car.

Machiko shrieked. Spinning out of control, the car smashed into a parked truck so hard the whole side crumpled like tin foil, but it didn't matter because she was dangling in the air, arms immobilized against her sides and a black cocoon rippling over her body.

She was suddenly face-to-face with Yokai.

Gasping for air she stared at him, head still ringing from the impact and near-death experience. Those cold yellow eyes of the mask, ominously set in a threatening trench coat, stared right back.

They were both silent for a moment as she caught her breath, and then Machiko curled her lips back in a snarl as Monster roared out of its hiding place and lunged towards them.

The black figure moved. The microbots launched them over the roof, moving smoothly away from the scrambling many-legged creature as, unhurried, Yokai pulled a small box out of the bots. A mini-table formed for him to set it on, holding it in place as he flicked open the catches. _Snap snap_.

"Either kill me or let me the fuck go!"

"Do you want to die?" They oozed into an old warehouse and tendrils barricaded the door. Machiko went cold at those words. He didn't mean to kill her? What did he want her for then? The answer came to her almost immediately: Monster. He wanted Monster, and in order to get it he had to have _her_.

"You can't have it." Her voice was edged in panic.

"It?" He pulled out a small piece of gauze. She could smell the alcohol.

"Monster. You can't have it, it's mine." He pulled her close suddenly. Dizzyingly she realized that this was the closest anyone had ever been to Yokai before. She could see the tiny imperfections on his mask and what the cloth was made out of. The zipper in the front of his suit shone in the moonlight coming in from a hole in the ceiling. It made him seem more human—but there was nothing human about the way he was handling her.

"Of that I have no doubt." Strong gloved fingers reached out. She tried to pull her head away, but he grasped her jaw and tilted her head back, stroking a small area of her neck with the gauze. It was cold and she rolled her eyes, frightened, towards the door where Monster was desperately trying to get in. _Monster, help me!_

It cried out its distress. Yokai was done wiping her throat and let go for a moment; she returned her attention to him. In the dim light she could see the small vial he pulled out… and the… needle…

"No." The word fell from her lips in the barest of whispers. Her insides twisted.

Still utterly unhurried and apparently unconcerned about the giant creature battering the door beyond the microbots, he slid the needle into the vial and pulled the plunger. "No, what're you—stop!"

He gripped her head again and tilted it back. She tried to bite him and got a mouthful of cloth; he tugged the gloved finger out of her mouth and pushed her jaw until her head was so far back she could barely breathe. Machiko was held completely still and helpless and she couldn't fight and she couldn't get to Monster what was going on why was he doing this—"Stop it!"

The needle slipped without hesitation into her jugular. The effect was immediate. Colors bled into one another and _Monster no where is Monster _the world teetered on the brink of reality and unreality and her chin was being gently held by the supervillain and her vision was dominated by his mask, bone-white and blood-red and Monster's cries were lessening _no wait what am I_ she should be upset, really upset, but she couldn't remember why anymore…

Yokai pressed his thumb to the entrance of the needle and pulled it out, placing it back in its foam setting in the tiny case. Close the lid, snap snap, and the microbots made it their own for the time being as he smoothed a band-aid to the small hole. The girl's head lolled, her eyes bleary and unfocused. Beyond the barricading swarm the door was buckled and twisted, but instead of hard thumps all he heard now was quiet scratching.

The bots fell away. A huge mantis-snake flowed in, moving slowly and almost casually. The microbots formed spears around it, ready to beat it back, but it made no move to attack. It settled to the dirty floor beside them, head resting on the shifting mass as close to Machiko as it could get.

Excellent.

He flowed towards the doorway again. It followed calmly and though he didn't know enough about it to tell, the way it moved suggested it was feeling the effects of the drug he'd given Machiko. Or perhaps that was how it acted when she was calm. Though he doubted she was ever truly calm.

The girl whimpered quietly. He made sure her head wasn't swinging or bumping into anything as they moved through the storage containers, down the pier and smoothly into the water. A confused cry made him glance back; Monster wavered near the edge, touching the water with a paw and skittering back and forth.

Machiko was shaking in the cold. The microbots were incredibly useful but had no heat; the constantly shifting mass let out any warmth that would normally be trapped against her skin. He brought her closer to himself and she unconsciously pressed against the heat source. Finally Yokai turned back and continued into the water—if she died his plan was for naught; Monster would just have to deal.

He was almost halfway across when a distant splash told him the creature had finally leaped in. He was three-quarters of the way across when it caught up to him, air sacs on its back keeping it afloat and shaped like a giant eel. It swam quietly next to them, grew legs and crawled onto land next to them, and followed them into the huge, hidden structure on the island that was Yokai's hideout.

Ever since he'd found a way to mask his whereabouts from Baymax's enhanced sensor hiding from Big Hero 6 had been easy, though he wasn't sure why they hadn't figured out _where _he was hiding. It had been pure luck that they'd spotted him outside of his hideout the first time, and then he'd had to wait and figure out how to shake them before returning lest they catch wind of his plans. They may have been geniuses, but their detective skills were awful, like when they had thought he was _Krei_. Even now the thought made him smile coldly under his mask.

He brought the girl and subsequently the creature into a huge room he'd cleared out. The edges of the cage he'd built rose on either side of them as he carried Machiko through carefully, watching Monster. It crawled in after them. He came out the other side, pulled out the microbots, and flipped two switches.

With a decisive _hum_ the cage turned on, trapping the monster in its weak laser walls. It turned in on itself, confused, upset, legs growing and turning into jaws and eyes popping open every which way to find a way out. It touched the glowing walls and jerked back at the sting, then let out a low cry and collapsed into a pile of segmented body parts.

Satisfied and very pleased, Yokai turned his attention to the drugged girl. He carried her through the facility to a room he'd especially prepared, to the cot he'd brought in, and lay her down.

The cuts on her hand needed tending to. The stitches were popped, but he'd come prepared; silently he gathered materials and began to wash them out. Machiko shifted and licked chapped lips, her other hand seeking purchase on anything. Her right hand was being held still by the bots as he stitched them back. Her soft cries of pain did not stop him.

He looked her over for any other injuries that needed attention. Most of them were bruises; he found a few more broken ribs—must have gotten in a fight before getting in the car. Her poor right arm was never going to work properly the way she was going.

Her face was streaked with dirt, makeup, sweat and tears. He wiped it clean as her glazed eyes traced his mask, trying to make sense of things. Her left hand came up and touched the edge of it, trembling, as if to confirm this was indeed the person who'd succeeded in kidnapping her. It fell back down to her side.

Determining she was in no medical danger, Yokai got up and left silently, the bots closing the door firmly behind him.

/

_Did I get drunk again?_

The ceiling was turning in circles. She didn't recognize it and panicked a little, trying to sit up—_oh god did I go home with someone, please no_—and fell over on her side, gasping. _Whoa okay, slowly… what was the last thing you remember…_

She'd left her house. The week had been rough. She'd gotten in a car… she was going to race Monster and get in a fight… maybe find Yokai and—_Yokai_.

Bile rose to her throat. She forced it down and grabbed the table near the cot, heaved herself out of the bed, and staggered around the small room. Where _was _she? Where'd he bring her? What did he want with her?

The floor tilted crazily and she sat hard on the floor, taking deep breaths and leaning back against the table leg. There was a door over there, but there was no reason to believe it was unlocked, and not only did she not have materials to pick a lock she was still high as _fuck_. He'd drugged her with something very powerful and it still wasn't entirely out of her system. Her hand flew up to the band-aid on her neck. The spot ached; it was probably bruised from the needle.

Her hand was cleaned off and bandaged again. Had he done that? Why the hell would he do that? He obviously didn't care about hurting her; he'd hurt Monster enough to know they were connected.

_Monster!_

The thought slammed home. A strangled cry found its way out of her throat and she tried to get up again. That's right, what happened when she was drugged? She remembered wanting to get to it. It would have responded the powerful desire by trying to find her. Which meant… which meant Yokai would be able to direct the creature anywhere he wanted it to go, with a completely subdued and needy target.

She closed her eyes and tried to concentrate, but the thoughts slipped away. Machiko was well and truly stuck.

She didn't know how long she sat there until the door opened. Time wasn't a concept she was capable of keeping track of right now. But it did open eventually, and the black-clad villain slid inside. He was carrying something but she didn't care.

"Monster," she hissed, and even she wasn't sure if she was asking him where her friend was or if she was calling him a name.

He didn't respond. Moving over to the table he set the platter down; she smelled toast. He'd brought her food?

The black mass that covered his legs was right next to her. She reached over and grabbed at it; it flowed out of her fingers and re-formed into a metal tentacle that wrapped around her waist and hoisted her upright. She fell back onto the bed and pushed herself to sit up again.

"Where. Is. Monster?" She forced the words out, concentrating as to not slur.

He didn't respond for a moment, though he did turn to regard her. She had to admit he had the intimidation factor down pat. He'd chosen his outfit well and the way he _moved _conveyed everything he ever wanted to convey. In that span of a minute, without verbalizing or any movement than to look at her, he communicated to her just how in control he was; how powerless he'd made her. How _helpless_ she was. It was in his stance, the way his shoulders were set, the sinuous movement of looking at her and the absolute stillness of the entire room.

It was terrifying.

"Eat." He spoke finally, distorted voice harsh on her ears. She jumped and swallowed; the otherwise utter silence of the room only added to the ominous spell. "It will combat the drug." His gloved finger tapped the tray. She looked over at it. Toast and an apple and blocks of… cheese, it looked like. Her stomach growled. She _was _hungry, but she'd be damned before she accepted food from him.

She pushed the fear away and embraced the anger. "Where is it!"

"Safe." He tilted his head. The unchanging expression of his mask made his movements all the more sinister. "And contained."

In a cage, he meant. Machiko grit her teeth and tried to focus. "Why didn't you just kill me?"

"You would have preferred death?"

She snorted. "No, that's stupid."

"Then do not complain."

He turned to leave. She grabbed the nearest thing—a pencil holder?—and chucked it at him in her frustration. It hit his shoulder. _Ha! Good aim even when I'm high off my rocker._

She didn't know what happened between sitting on the bed and being pinned against the wall. It had happened so fast her drugged head swam, though he seemed to be careful not to actually hurt her. He glided forward and leaned towards her so she had no choice but to see his mask once again dominating her vision.

"Every time," he said slowly so she couldn't mistake his words, the microbots tightening ever so slightly on her body, "you lose your temper, you attack me, you attack _yourself_, I will drug you. If you lose control, I will have no choice but to control you. Is that clear?"

She was shaking. No, he'd been right, this was worse than death. She stared at him wordlessly.

"Is that _clear_?" He emphasized. The bots shook her gently. He wasn't going to leave without an affirmative.

"Y-Yes." She swallowed hard, and the bone-white visage withdrew. He put her back on the bed and turned once again to leave. This time he was almost entirely out of the door before she spoke again. Her words made him pause. "Don't take the fight away from me."

He turned back to her, head tilting slowly.

"It's all I have," she whispered, steadying herself. "It's all I—I-I can't _not _fight."

For a moment he regarded her, and then he flicked a hand to bring the tray of food from the table to the bed in front of her. "Eat. When you can stand, there is a shower in the back. I will return."

The door shut again with a quiet, but firm click.

She lay in bed for a long time before the smell of food and her growling stomach convinced her to eat. By then the toast had gone cold, but the room had stopped spinning so she no longer worried about puking. She ate robotically. Her mixed emotions were slowly growing together into a sort of frozen fear as she slowly realized what had happened—really realized it.

She'd been kidnapped. By Yokai. The most feared criminal in San Fransokyo. He'd taken her somewhere secret. If he never let her out no one would ever know where she went. She'd be a missing person, and no one would care.

That was the part that made her swallow tears. No one would care. Not a single person. Professor Callaghan might, but he had his labs and his students and his projects and really didn't need a juvenile delinquent on his hands. He'd forget shortly.

After a while she dragged herself to the back he had proffered. There was a sliding door there. It looked like it must have been mechanical at one point, but that was long ago; she had to push it with her hands. Inside there was a sink, a toilet, and a stand-up shower with some of the tiny hotel products everyone liked to take home. Not knowing how long the warm water would last, Machiko scrubbed quickly and got out. It made her feel a little better, at least. But she didn't have any clean clothes to change into.

Still her stomach felt like lead. She sat down on the bed again, having nothing else to do—whether it be his threat to sedate her or just plain fear, the always-simmering anger didn't come to the surface. All there was left was to wait.

He did return, eventually, as he said he would; he left the door open, but it was impossible to get by him with the swarm of robots cramming into the doorway. He looked like a giant naga from ancient Indian mythology. She pulled her legs up to her chest and hugged them tightly.

"What is it?" It wasn't a question, it was a command. She was expected to answer.

She refused anyway. "Fuck you."

He turned and glided out the door without another word. Before she could speak the door shut and she was left alone once more. Damn it, that wasn't what she wanted at all! Machiko got up and began to pace, hands clenching into fists (until of course her bandaged hand began to smart like the devil).

He left her alone for an hour, then returned. She spun to face him but any angry curse was silenced as, once again, he somehow communicated his dominance and stared her down. She backed up towards the wall and hated herself for showing that weakness.

"What is it?"

She stood there shaking, trying to battle instinct to lash out. "I don't know," she finally spat at him. "I named it Monster when I was a little kid and it's _mine _and that's all I know."

"How long have you had it?"

"My whole life—what does it _matter_?" Instinct won over and she spun around to avoid attacking him and slammed her fist (her left one, she was glad she remembered) into the wall. Tendrils of microbots rose in warning. "Why the hell do you have me here? Where's Monster? _Why didn't you just kill me_?!"

Yokai watched her carefully, waiting for her to calm down. If she continued to lash out he would subdue her, but at least she was trying to keep calm by talking instead of attacking. "You have been purposely seeking me out night." It was not a question, but she knew what he was asking.

"You attacked me _first_!" She spat. "Down by the docks, remember? You were gonna kill me and I defended myself."

"And every time after that, you have deliberately sought me out. Why?"

"I don't know, maybe I like getting my ass kicked!" Her lips pulled back in a wild grin. "Maybe I have a death wish! Maybe I just hate you!" Her nails bit into her palm. "Maybe it's because you're the only person I can _fight back_!"

Her bony chest heaved as she fought to calm herself down. She could feel Monster on the edge of her mind again, feeding off her rage and desperately trying to get to her, to no avail. Small shocks in her brain meant it was touching the barrier and recoiling in pain. She fought back tears. She couldn't have Monster taken away. It was the last of her friends. First Rowdy, now Monster; now she was having the fight taken away; she couldn't handle much more.

That damned white and red mask gazed implacably down at her. He was considering what she said for some reason. Then he turned away.

That was the last straw, and Machiko saw red.

The last thing she knew was the sharp pain of the needle sliding into her vein.


	7. Christmas

**A/N:** Awkward chapter is awkward. /pushes it out there anyway

/

Machiko quickly realized the routine. If she lost her temper, she was sedated. If she successfully wrestled her ire into submission, she got to hang out in the big room with Monster while Yokai worked doing… whatever he was doing. Tinkering with one of the big machines, though he refused to tell her what they were for or what they did. She wasn't allowed outside or even near a window.

It was infuriating, but effective. Machiko was forced to speak to him in a civil tone, expected to be quiet when he was working, and was not allowed to touch any of the machinery or mess with the cage. In turn he fed her, gave her fresh clothing, and so long as she asked them politely would answer her questions. He even got her books to do her homework when she requested them (the thought of him rummaging around in her room at home made her giggle if only because there was nothing else to do about it). So she had nothing to do, really, except for homework.

She _resented _it, and resented _him, _so much so that Monster watched him far too closely for comfort and would stare at him steadily even when she went to leave. It responded to her emotions but it wasn't like she could control its every move. Her hatred would become its hatred, and it would lash out the moment it was given a chance.

Every bottled emotion needed an outlet, however, and it wasn't like she was dealing with her emotion in a positive way. The longer she was forced to behave the more it boiled under the surface, waiting for a way to get out.

"I can give you something to fight," Yokai told her when he caught her trying to hide her furious tears in the room he'd given her (she refused to think of it as "her" room). "But I must be sure of you first."

She'd thrown her plate at him and he'd pinned her to the floor until she gave up. Being helpless didn't make anything better; she'd finally broken down and cried when he left, then broke every breakable thing in the room. It didn't help her situation but it made her feel better.

He entered to give her food as she was finishing up her math homework. They were always simple meals with not much cooking; this time it was a Hot Pocket (she had no idea he had a microwave, or maybe getting something hot was easy for a genius like him), and several carrot sticks. _Room service, _she thought, _how nice._

"What day is it?" She hadn't meant to speak, but she really was curious.

He paused. "Wednesday."

"The…?"

"Eighteenth. Of December."

Wow. Next week was Christmas. Merry Christmas to me, she thought sardonically. "So I've been here…"

"Five days."

"Oh." She bent her head back down to the work. Another thought occurred to her. "Did you tell my dad where I was? Or leave him a note? Or something? He's gonna be pissed." She winced at the thought.

"It was taken care of." He turned again to leave.

"One more question."

He looked back.

"How the _hell _do you think you're gonna control Monster when you let it out? I figure that's your aim, unless I'm completely off my rocker." The second Monster was let out of the cage there was _no_ way it was going back in. And she'd be damned before she went anywhere alone at night again. That was one way to stop her from going out…

"I do not need to control Monster. I only need to control you." The slanted yellow eyes stared back at her. "What makes you believe I will let you out of my sight if I released the creature?"

Her lips curled back in a snarl. He was right. As long as he had one of them, he had the other.

Yokai stared at her until he made his point and left with a whirl of his trenchcoat.

The day before Christmas Eve he brought her to the main land. He covered her completely in a sphere of microbots from the get-go so she was unable to see or hear where she was going at all. The sphere opened abruptly in the middle of the city and she stumbled out and looked around, sucking in a breath of surprisingly cold air and blinking in the harsh street lamps as her eyes adjusted from being in pitch black. "You're letting me go," she asked incredulously, "for Christmas?"

"You will return on Friday. If you do not, I will find you." He knew she had to do as he said. As he turned and flowed away she could have _sworn _he muttered "ho ho ho" under his breath but someone's car alarm went off at that same moment so it was probably just that.

She walked home. The air was frigid, probably the coldest she'd ever felt San Fransokyo get. Yokai had given her a sweater but it was obvious she was meant to head straight home. Machiko stood outside, staring at the golden light inside. Her dad was there, framed by the window and eating what looked like a taco without a care in the world. Did he even know it was Christmas Eve? He didn't look worried about where she could have been. What did Yokai tell him?

All of a sudden she didn't care. She didn't want to know. She didn't want to go home. She had no home. There was nothing. Her only friend was miserably curled up in a cage somewhere in this disgusting city, she was a prisoner of a supervillain, and he could yank that leash right back to him whenever he wanted. Did she really want to spend her few days of freedom—Christmas, no less—with Dad?

No.

She turned away and trudged back down the hill. She was shivering now—she had to find somewhere to sleep and not freeze to death. Digging in her pocket, she pulled out her phone, which Yokai had given her with her backpack and had simply not worked in the facility she was kept. Now it did work, and she could see several missed texts and calls.

A couple people at school she'd worked with in Bio Lab wondered where she was, and had invited her to Christmas parties. A few of them she could still go to if she wanted; there was still time. But Machiko wouldn't fit in there, so she sent a few texts saying she had plans and left it at that.

Apparently she'd sent a text—no, Yokai had sent a text using her phone before he'd given it back. It was to her dad. _Staying over a friend's house for Christmas. Don't worry_. Ha, she would never have told him not to worry. The text had gone unanswered.

A call from Professor Callaghan. He'd left a message. She opened it and raised the phone to her ear.

_"Machiko, this is Professor Callaghan… just wondering what you're doing for Christmas. I figured you'd be visiting family, but if you're not give me a call back…"_ She deleted it before he finished and immediately regretted it. The one nice person in the city. Well… she could still call him; she had his number.

She put the phone back in her pocket instead.

The streets were silent save for the muffled sound of parties. Machiko stopped at the corner and pulled her arms into the sleeves of her sweater to conserve warmth. There was nothing to do.

Dry things were not hard to find. It never snowed in San Fransokyo and it looked like it had been dry the past few days at least, so Machiko gathered some cardboard and things and piled them up, and then realized she didn't have any matches or a lighter. She had no idea how to start a fire. She'd always just curl up with Monster or Rowdy when she was cold.

_I'm useless. _She always knew it, but it was still a sobering thought. Apparently the only use she had was to a goddamn supervillain.

Anger.

This was an emotion she could use. It would keep her warm. Machiko accepted it like she always did and took a deep breath of frozen air.

"Hey!"

When she didn't respond, not sure they were talking to her, the man called out again, this time much closer. "Hey!"

Machiko turned to see a guy parting from his friends and sauntering up to her. She watched him approach, putting her arms back into her sleeves in case she needed them. "What's up, baby girl?" the man drawled as he came closer, grinning with an expression that meant trouble.

_A fight._ Yeah, that's what she could do.

"What." She'd try the nice way first. No need to punch in some random dude's face without provocation. This was not due to actual politeness, but more due to the fact that she could just claim self-defense.

"Back for more, huh?"

What? She narrowed her eyes at him. "I've never seen you before in my life."

For some reason that was really funny to him and he broke out in giggles, to her deepening confusion. "No, I bet you haven't!"

"Okay, dude, either tell me what the hell you're talking about or go away. I don't have time for you." The "nice way" was getting old fast, and she felt her fists clench. Her right hand was almost entirely healed up, but this would probably damage it further… and she didn't care.

"We had an awesome time a while ago," the dude said, still grinning. He pushed the mop of hair out of his eyes. "'Cept you didn't wanna do anything, so we had to loosen ya up a little."

Oh shit. Her expression cleared. The first and only time she'd gotten that drunk was… man, that was a while ago now. And the only thing she remembered was… well, she vaguely remembered going to some frat house and this guy—

Suddenly a tight feeling clenched her insides. What did he mean, he had to "loosen" her up? "Yeah, so I got drunk." He giggled again and stepped forward into the street light and suddenly everything slammed into place. She _knew that face. _He'd given her a little red cup with a drink that went down really nice. And he'd giggled when she did.

Despite the fact that she'd wanted to get drunk Machiko had always had a modicum of sense when it came to actually doing it. She didn't let loose around people that way. If she was gonna get _that _hammered it would have been in her room at home or alone somewhere with Monster where it could take care of her. She always figured she'd just lost it that night and decided what the hell, but she'd never lost an _entire day_. Besides, she was a tiny girl. A few drinks were enough to make her shitfaced.

"You drugged me." The words were whispered and she stared at him in horror. No wonder she'd lost a day of memory. No wonder it ended after he'd given her that drink. She'd never even thought about it.

No wonder she'd ached in places she didn't know existed.

The hospital had never done a rape test; she'd admitted she'd drank, thought she'd gotten drunk _alone_, and thus there was no need. The thought had probably never crossed their minds either.

The dude was giggling again, heedless of the danger he was in, as rage started building in her chest. "C'mon, baby," he said, and he reached forward with a meaty hand to grab her.

She punched him.

Every single bit of anger that had been stifled in the facility came into play. Machiko knew how to punch, and her whole weight went behind it—closed fist; short, violent swing—she _felt _his nose crunch as he collapsed to the ground with a muffled scream and her rage took over and his friends started running over.

"Come on!" She screamed, and launched herself at them. "Let's fucking _go_!"

The heel of her foot slammed into the inside of someone's knee. She bit the arm that wrapped around her neck and clawed backwards, digging her fingers into their groin and _yanking_ with as much strength as she could muster. Another scream and she was released; bending forward, she lunged and headbutted another one of the guys in the stomach. Her arms were flailing, scratching, punching, slapping; she bit another man on the cheek and tackled someone else, beating at their face with her fists.

They grabbed her hair and pulled her to the ground and someone kicked her but she grabbed their foot and tripped them and buried her teeth in their leg and punched their groin and elbowed someone who tried to come help and—

No pack of scavengers, of _bullies_, is ever prepared to deal with someone that fought back, especially with that magnitude. It didn't take them long to grab their wounded and run, screaming about how she was crazy and a bitch and what-have-you.

She chased them for a while before she wound down and, panting, took stock of her injuries. She hurt in every way, shape and form. Some of her hair had been pulled out. It hurt to breathe. Scrapes, bruises and cuts decorated her exposed skin.

Machiko swayed and had to lean against the nearest trash can to get her bearings. They'd _roofied _her. _No fucking wonder_, she thought as she spat out blood and shakily slid to the ground and curled up. Her head throbbed. No wonder she'd lost a day. No wonder she'd been so out of it. No wonder…

She bit back tears and clenched her teeth. The fight hadn't been enough.

It was time to raise hell.

/

He found her sitting on the steps of a closed-down church, spray paint can dangling from her fingers and graffiti dripping from the church doors. She didn't even see him roll up, alone with her thoughts. Thus far she'd gone joyriding twice, gotten in no less than five fights, broken the windshield of a cop car, and had ended here. The spray can... to be honest she didn't remember where she'd gotten it.

She was only aware of the squealing sound of someone slamming on brakes, and a shouted _"Machiko!" _before honking the horn. She looked up to Callaghan unbuckling himself to get out of the car, and to save him the trouble she laboriously got up and limped slowly over.

"Where have you been? Your dad said you were staying over a friend's house," he peered at her through the passenger side window, pausing in his frantic rush to get out of the car.

"More like an acquaintance," she replied. Her voice was a croak and her throat burned. She swallowed hard. "He dropped me off… Tuesday…"

"Machiko, it's _Friday. _He said you were never home!"

"Yeah, I… I didn't go home." She felt lightheaded and rested her forehead on the car door, closing her eyes momentarily. "Didn't want to." Friday. There was something about Friday she should remember, but it evaded her grasp.

He looked absolutely shocked. "Do you mean to tell me," he said quietly, "you've spent the past three days… outside. In the streets. In the cold."

"Yeah. S'been three days?" The heat billowing from the open window made her queasy. Oh right, Tuesday to Friday was three. Or was it four. "Huh. I missed Christmas." She laughed once and then began coughing violently. "Merry Christmas to me, I live on the streets… what rhymes with streets…"

"Get in the car."

The door latch didn't seem to want to stay put. She found it eventually, opened the door, and practically fell inside. Callaghan rolled up the window and cranked the heat up as she curled miserably in the seat, not bothering with the seatbelt. The dips and bumps of the ride made her even queasier, but there was nothing in her stomach to throw up.

"Have you even eaten?"

"Yeah, had… chips…" a homeless man had shared them with her. Homeless people were usually pretty friendly as long as you didn't try to steal all their stuff. He'd tried to give her a blanket too, but she hadn't wanted to take away one of his only sources of warmth. "Think I had a… a taco, too." She'd broken into a fish taco truck, and had subsequently been chased away by some weird ladies with painted faces. "Or something."

"God damn it, Machiko." She'd never heard him swear before. It was surreal. Then again, everything was surreal right now… "What were you thinking? Did you get in a fight, too?"

"Yeah. Several. It's hot in here."

"It's freezing outside, you're lucky you didn't die!" His motions were sharp as he drove. He was really pissed at her, she realized. Why was he angry? She'd stopped feeling the cold a long time ago. "Why on earth did you not go home?!"

"Didn't wanna."

"Why didn't you come to my house? I left you a message!"

"Oh… yeah." She'd forgotten about that. "Forgot. I was gonna call you back. I think my phone got stolen or something. No, wait, here it is." The battery was dead. "Nevermind. I dunno. 'S Christmas, I thought… you were with friends, or family…"

He probably responded, but she didn't hear him. Her eyelids were growing heavy. Now that she was growing used to the heat it felt really nice. Was he shouting? "Don' yell at me," she pleaded quietly. "Th'week sucked. Please don't yell…"

"I'm not yelling at you," she thought she heard him say, but it was all muffled.

He had to carry her inside, and was shocked at how light she was. He'd monitored her food intake at the Silent Sparrow facility; she hadn't lost that much! Depositing her on the couch he pulled off her filthy sweater and even filthier shirt—no time to be prude now. Off came her shoes and socks. He wasn't a doctor or an expert but he was pretty sure she didn't have frostbite, but he'd have to do a quick internet search to make sure.

_Why _didn't she go home? He thought as he cleaned her up. She was shivering but felt hot to the touch—fever. He'd dropped her off as close as he could. She'd walked off in that direction. Why didn't she just go inside? He knew she hated going home, but he didn't think she was stupid enough to risk her life just so she didn't have to.

_"He threw him against the wall and he died."_ It had been hard not to flinch when she'd told him that, and he was well aware that oftentimes someone who abused animals also… abused children… but that was why he gave her the option of coming here!

He took her temperature and made her as comfortable as he could. One-oh-four. He contemplated bringing her to the hospital, then resolved to take her temp again in an hour and make a decision then.

"Machiko. Come on." He sat her up and made her drink water, then gave her some fever-reducing medication. If she vomited the water he certainly would bring her to the E.R.

She whimpered and he leaned back to watch her. This brought back memories of a young sick Abigail, crying on the couch because she couldn't go build bots with her friends that day; he'd had to cheer her up with her favorite movies and cancelled all his plans to sit on the couch and watch them with her. He got the feeling Machiko didn't watch many movies.

If her father hit her he was going to have to have a talk with him. He wasn't sure if he would do it as Yokai or as Callaghan, but one thing was for sure—if she showed up at school with those sunglasses again something or someone was going to have to teach her dad a lesson. He wouldn't _dream _of ever hitting his dear Abigail, and the very thought of a father hitting his daughter was the worst to even the villain's shaky morality.

He pet her hair. It was damp with sweat. Poor thing. Her fever maintained for the next hour, went down and then back up, and then finally broke completely early the next morning. He made her drink more water and had her eat toast and then, fully understanding the irony, a slice of apple and a small bite of cheese. If she remembered she gave no sign.

She's had what appeared to be fevered dreams and cried out all night. He could only imagine what nightmares awaited her and thought they all concerned Yokai until she very softly whispered what he thought was _"Dad, no" _and he had to leave the room to calm himself down. It would be too obvious if he went out and murdered her father, either as Callaghan or as Yokai.

When she was finally lucid he made her eat and take a shower (he sat outside the whole time and spoke to her to make sure she wasn't unconscious in there) and left her some more of Abigail's clothes to change into.

Then he sat her down. "Machiko," he said, leaning back on the newly clean couch. She stared at the floor in front of them. "I need to know. Where were you, and why were you living on the streets for three days?"

She grunted and fidgeted. He waited patiently for her to respond. It was a good way to both be a good guardian and test what he'd told her in the facility.

Machiko thought hard. Her head still hurt and she felt weak, but she knew she couldn't tell him the truth. Besides, he wouldn't believe her anyway. "My friend," she began, slowly, "I—I went to meet him. But he… uh, he got put in jail." The very thought of Monster stuck in that cage thickened her voice and she paused to get herself under control. She was tired, so tired. "And our mutual… acquaintance… brought me home." She dared glance over at him. He was listening and looked almost… impressed?

"I don't know why I didn't go home. I just… the past week was so _awful_, I—I didn't want to make it worse. Dad was home and I didn't want to walk in there. I usually sneak in through the window," and now Monster would never be there to catch her, "but my… ladder's broken."

"But you would have been safe," he told her, and she laughed suddenly, viciously, and put her hands against her face.

"Safe? _Safe_?" She coughed wetly. "Safe _there?_ Okay, yeah, sure. I'm just dumb then. A stupid bitch." She turned away, still chuckling and the bitterness in her voice was _painful_ to hear and Callaghan decided enough was enough.

He stared at her levelly until she stopped laughing and looked at him out of the corner of her eye, her face drawn and wary. He waited just long enough for her to start squirming minutely, and kept his eyes locked on hers. "Machiko," he said, low and severe, "does your father hit you?"

There was a silence, very brief but just long enough. "No," she said flatly, but it was a _lie; _he could always tell when teenaged girls were lying, "he just yells."

"If he is—"

"It's none of your business. My family life is _none of your business_." She rose suddenly to her feet and stumbled; he made as if to catch her, but she recoiled from him. "I'm thankful you helped me, okay? Thanks for not letting me die." She looked away. "But I gotta go now. I'm overdue anyway."

"Overdue?"

"Yeah." She looked towards the door, reluctance written heavily on her face.

He'd have to get it out of her some other way… "You're not going out in this state."

"Like hell I'm not," she snarled back. "It's Sunday. I was supposed to meet someone on Friday. I fucked up."

"Sit down, Machiko."

"Oh, go to hell!" she yelled suddenly, spinning around and nearly falling. This time he did catch her and she slammed her fists into his chest. He was glad she was this weak, because he knew from experience she was very good at throwing punches. "I'm tired of people telling me what to do and taking _advantage_ of me! All my _fucking life _has been one thing after another and I'm sick of it! I hate it, I hate you, I hate _him_ and I just wanna be left _alone_!"

Instead of telling her to stop, instead of yelling at her, instead of letting her _leave_, the professor just held her by the shoulders, stroking her hair and rubbing her back. It wasn't something the girl was used to and she struggled for a bit, yelling incomprehensively. How could she fight someone who only offered comfort back? It just wasn't right!

She felt his arms fold around her, just like Monster's used to, and he held her close. He moved to sit back down. Machiko was quiet now, save for the ragged dry sobs. She was clinging to his sweater. She had no idea being this close to someone _human _could be this comforting.

They were both quiet for a long time as she calmed down.

"I think," Professor Callaghan said finally, his voice rumbling through his chest (she closed her eyes and pressed her ear in, it was so calming), "you need to stay here for a little while longer."

"I can't," she whispered. "I have to go. M-My friend…"

"Machiko," he said firmly, "if your friend was put in _jail,_ I think you should find some better friends."

"But it wasn't his fault," she wailed softly. "It was my fault and he's paying for it!"

"He made his decision."

"But I'm expected back…"

"I'm sure he'll understand."

But he won't, she wanted to cry. What if Yokai showed up at the house? What if he was mad at her? She hated this, not knowing and being helpless. Whatever happened to just getting out and running and getting in a car and driving… to _fighting _whenever she wanted? Things were way too complicated now.

"I want my friend back," she said. "I want him back. It's not fair. He's my only friend."

"I'll help you make more friends," he replied gently, pulling her hair away from her face and tucking it behind her ear. "I know you haven't had the best start in life, but you _can _learn. Broaden your horizons and I promise in the long run it will help."

Maybe he was right. But she was exhausted now and he smelled nice. Homey. God, she wanted Monster. She wanted _Rowdy_.

"Go to sleep," his voice rumbled through his chest again.

"I don't wanna go back," she sighed. She didn't want to let go of him, either.

She was almost asleep when he murmured to her. "I know. You don't have to… for now."

Well that didn't make any sense…


	8. Fire

She stayed at Callaghan's house for another week.

It had been about that time that she decided she quite liked staying there; that maybe she wouldn't go back—maybe she'd track down the Big Hero 6 and explain Monster to them and tell them she'd been kidnapped by him. They could get her there maybe putting a tracking device on her. Then they could let Monster go and take care of Yokai—and she could get on Monster's back and they could finally learn how to fly.

So she didn't want to go with Yokai by that point. And she knew she was far too weak to fight him or really run if and when he did show up. Her battered body couldn't take much more stress and she was still silently freaking out about the whole roofie thing.

The tell-tale slithering sound, like scales on rock, alerted her as she meandered to the convenience store. It was right at sunset—the quiet time right before the night-goers went out; right before the late-open shops closed. Machiko turned and saw him _right there he was right there _sliding down a building and she reached down into the paper bag she'd been carrying around for this very reason.

She only had a few seconds before he was on her. Yanking the bottle out of her bag and a lighter out of her pocket it only took a second before flames licked up the soaked rag. She threw it with deadly accuracy if a weak arm, savage grin lighting her face.

He barely got a wall of microbots up in time. The explosion caused more than a few lights to go on and a couple of yelled _"Knock it off!"_s as people assumed it was just belated illegally set fireworks.

Machiko was already up and scrambling away, using those seconds to dive down an alleyway and haul herself with shaking arms into the rickety metal of an emergency fire escape and then up the stairs and over the railing onto the sloping roof of the laundry place next to it.

Her feet slammed into the metal plating. A glance behind her told her Yokai was _pissed_ and rearing up on the writhing black mass, tendrils reaching out to drag him along with astonishing speed. Machiko slid down the other side of the roof and dropped onto the balcony of the next one over, heart pounding in her chest and anger rising. She felt so _helpless!_

She lit the second cocktail and took aim just as he appeared over the side. He reached towards her in a swift, smooth motion, fingers crooked as if to grasp her, and a column of the little black bastards shot out at her.

She threw the bottle and ducked.

It was too close. The explosion set someone's hanging laundry on fire and the heat of it singed the tips of her hair. The shock wave slammed her back into the railing and took the breath out of her lungs; she fell onto the balcony floor. Now people were screaming as they looked out their windows and saw the fire licking into the sky, framing the supervillain in its burning glory.

Machiko laughed suddenly, wildly. No one thought _she _did it, for a change! They'd all blame _him_!

"Come and get me!" she called, and in a fit of stupid inspiration vaulted over the railing to land on the moving truck driving by.

Shocks of pain shot up her heels and into her knees; she collapsed on top of it with a yelp, clutching her legs in a moment of uncontrollable muscle spasms. But she couldn't stop there; she'd already pulled out all the stops!

The truck squealed to a stop. She was thrown forward and barely avoided falling onto the cab. She jumped down and down again onto the road and, gasping, hammered on the door.

"What the hell, lady!" the driver snarled at her, rolling down the window. "What the fuck were you thinking? You could've been ki—" He followed her pointing finger where Yokai was towering above them, raising his arms to bring a wave of microbots into the air. _"Holy shit!"_

"Better get out of the truck." She sounded calmer than she should've been.

The guy practically fell out in his haste to get away—Yokai was very obviously going to target them. She got in, feeling the old burning desire to _go_ taking hold, put the truck in gear and _floored _it.

"_Yes!_" She was racing along the roads, swerving around pedestrians who'd come out in curiosity, skidding around the corner as a typhoon of black roiled after her.

And then she saw a red rocket speed past her.

_Big Hero 6._

She slammed on the brakes. A yellow blur zipped by her and in her rear view mirror she saw the other two, she didn't know their names, bouncing towards the villain. Well. That took care of that. They'd keep him busy for a while.

Machiko decided to find a nice hidden spot and huddle up to watch the ensuing fight, wishing she had popcorn. _Serves the motherfucker right_. God she wished she could join in! But Callaghan would _kill _her if she got in another fight.

Wait, what was she doing? He'd kill her when he found out she'd stolen a _truck_ and went zooming around the city! And now sirens were approaching, responding to both Yokai and the fire. She forgot this wasn't the bad part of town. People were actually going to call 911!

Whoops.

Well now Yokai was gonna be _really _pissed at her. Who knew what he would do to Monster when he got back, assuming he did (of course he would, he always got away)? Would he kill it? Would he hurt it until she was forced to come crawling back? It was slowly dawning on her just how stupid she'd been. She had no idea where Monster was being kept so she couldn't alert them to where it was. They were busy fighting Yokai so she couldn't explain Monster to them.

She'd _fucked up_.

Again.

She always fucked up. Machiko pressed her hands to her face as the fight raged on, disgust with herself rising in her chest. She tried to make it feed her anger and failed. Ugh, she hated feeling this useless and pathetic.

Uncurling from her hiding spot she began to walk away. Behind her, the fire had caught on to the nearby houses and firefighters were desperately trying to put out the blaze around the battle. Machiko paused to look back. _I did that_.

The feeling clenched her insides. Lead formed in her stomach. She'd done that. She'd started that fire. People, innocent people, were actually gonna get hurt because of her. Yeah, they'd blame Yokai; who wouldn't? But wasn't that as bad as people at school blaming her for shit?

Well, no; she wasn't Yokai. But still she'd never try to tell the truth because no one would believe her. She was the Bad Kid; why wouldn't they believe the accusing fingers pointing at her? Eventually she'd just given up and accepted it. Yeah, sure, she'd beaten up Joey. Yeah, okay, she'd broken the windows. Yeah, she'd cheated on that test. What was the point of denying it?

What if someone died because of the fire? It'd be because of _her_. Manslaughter. Murder. _Oh god!_

It was the feeling of _release _that yanked her out of her depressive thoughts. Freedom! The walls were gone!

_Monster?_

Holy shit! Machiko stopped dead, squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated as hard as she could, heart hammering in her chest. She stood there for several minutes in shock, thoughts roiling. Monster was out?! How was it out? _How_? Did the shields fail? Did Yokai let it out? But it didn't matter; Monster was coming to her!

Wait.

_Shit!_

Monster knew to stay hidden but it had never been in the good side of town before and all it knew was to _get to her_ no matter what _Monster wait no stay—! _

Fresh screams were rising from the streets below, because though it was trying its damndest to stay out of sight its desire to get to her, mirrored by her own to see it again, overrode everything. All of a sudden a giant creature, full of wildly forming and melting jaws and pincers and claws and tentacles, was clambering over the buildings towards her—towards Big Hero 6.

And they turned their attention to it.

"No!" She screamed. It leaped towards her, is joyful calls turning confused and then frightened as it caught hold of her own emotions—and then in _pain _as a fireball licked at its side; the hero outfit was splitting up, trying to contain both Yokai and this new creature who they assumed to come to Yokai's aid and suddenly Machiko realized just what he'd done. He'd released it remotely, somehow; he _knew _it'd come to her!

Everything was suddenly falling apart. She'd started a fire and Monster was out but Monster was being attacked and it was just trying to _get away _and get to _her _but they wouldn't let it and agony was burning in her mind, searing away the self-deprecation in a wildfire of _rage_ and it felt _good _to be angry again!

"Stop it!" she shrieked over the sounds of the battle, now approaching because Monster was bolting to her, howling in anger and twisting and thinning its body and trying to evade its attackers. "_Stop it!_"

_Fuck Big Hero 6!_

Monster stopped running.

It turned.

And suddenly it was a series of gnashing teeth and spines and pincers and blades, whirling, lashing out, screaming its sudden fury and she screamed right along with it. Someone tried to attack it; Yokai threw up a wall, protecting it and suddenly she—it—_they _were fighting alongside him and she knew what he had done; he'd made her his ally but she couldn't stop it and she didn't _want _to stop it; she wanted them to _pay_!

The pain in her head made her angrier. Monster whipped around and flowed around their attacks, almost as liquid as the microbots; the masked villain threw one of them towards its waiting spikes, but they were caught by the flying armored Baymax.

People were coming out of their houses now, raising weapons and calling encouragement to the heroes. Machiko went unnoticed, crouched on the ground, for all the world looking like a kid panicking about the unfolding events. Their calls enraged her further. They were _shooting _at Monster, and so were the cops.

The creature whipped around, gaping jaws now aiming for the populace. Shouts turned to screams. Monster dragged its body towards them, snapping and slashing.

Blood hit her face.

It had killed. It had consumed. With each kill she could feel it grow stronger.

Monster had never killed anything but birds and rats and the occasional stray. It could _eat _anything, but living things gave it sustenance the way trash could not. It felt good to it—to her—to _them_.

People were in a panic. Machiko wavered where she crouched and slowly stood as it passed her by, eyes popping open on its side to look at her as it did. She stepped back, back away from it, into the shadow of the alleyway.

"Go," she whispered to it. Her rage was fading in the light of what she had just done. What it had done. If it killed, was she to blame?

Yes.

"Hide."

It understood that. Monster didn't—couldn't—understand words, or complex thought, but it knew how to hide. Big Hero 6 was regrouping and would attack it again if it didn't get out of there. Where was Yokai? He'd vanished in the way only the supervillain could.

Its long body flattened. Its mass of legs and spines folded back into its body. Like liquid it flowed, snakelike, through the streets. It would head back to the places it knew and hide in the sewers.

Now it was her turn.

Machiko turned and ran back to the only safety she ever knew, back to Callaghan's house.

She could taste the blood on her lips.

The professor found her in the bathtub. He hadn't even known she was there; he figured she'd go and hide somewhere in the streets again and he'd have to track her down. He was actually glad he didn't know she was there at first; it gave him a little while to cool off about what had transpired and he didn't know if he would be very calm if he had to deal with her right off the bat.

The girl had taken old bottles and turned them into _Molotov cocktails. _He hadn't even known she knew how to do that. He hadn't known she had the guts to make them, much less throw them at him in the vicinity of people's houses! The evening had been a wild ride from start to finish and he hoped Big Hero 6 didn't dare show their faces at his house after that debacle. He stayed downstairs for a while, calming himself down and taking aspirin for his aches and pains.

But even supervillains had to pee. He opened the door to the bathroom and started when he saw the form curled up tight. She didn't respond to her name. She was all wet and shivering.

He almost barked _Miss Arashi_ before catching himself. Instead he crouched down next to the tub and touched her shaking shoulder. She jumped and looked up at him with glassy eyes. She was deep in shock. He didn't blame her, after what Monster had just done. But he'd unleashed it.

"What happened? Are you all right?" He _was _concerned.

Machiko closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her voice was soft and weak. "I-I fucked up."

That was surprising. "Machiko, come out of the tub. Did you take a shower in your clothes?"

"Yeah."

He pushed his hands under her arms and helped her stand. She stepped out of the tub shakily. "Come on, let's get you out of these wet clothes. We just got you well, Machiko, we don't want you to be sick again, do we."

"N-No." She let him take off her coat and sweater. He sat her down on the closed toilet and removed her shoes and socks, then grabbed a towel and dried her hair. "I'm going to get you some more clothes," he sighed. "Get undressed."

He waited outside while she dressed again and handed her his bathrobe. "Go downstairs," he ordered her quietly. "Warm up. I'll be down in a minute."

She obeyed silently, her face still white and eyes still glassy. He used the bathroom quickly and joined her on the couch, where she was in a fetal position in the very corner of the couch staring warily at the window.

"Machiko—"

"Can you close the curtains?"

He paused. Ah. Right. He did so without asking why and returned to the couch. "Tell me what happened."

She took another deep, shaky breath, nostrils flaring. "I… I fucked up. I went to…" she paused, probably trying to figure out what to say without revealing anything. "I went… to visit my friend," she continued slowly, "a-and… he'd gotten out of jail. He… hurt some people." _No, actually, it killed some people._ She swallowed hard.

"Oh, Machiko," he said quietly, putting a hand on her shoulder. She flinched. "I'm assuming it's not just getting-in-a-fight hurting people—"

"No," she replied, and her voice broke. She sounded terrified now, and was fighting back tears. "Actually hurt some people. People who didn't deserve it. He's in hiding now."

"Do you know where he is?"

"Yeah." She bent her head and pressed her face to her knees. "Why do I always fuck up? All the time. Every time. I can't do anything right. I just wanted to see my friend again."

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her into a hug. He could work with this. "Machiko, listen. All right?" She nodded. "When something like this happens… you have to own up and work with what you have." He'd actually had this conversation with Abigail long ago. She'd gotten herself arrested for illegal bot-fighting. The conversation had been done in the car on the ride home after he'd bailed her out. Funny how it worked the opposite way now; before, he was trying to get her out of trouble and now… "And if your friend is _hurting _people and you know where he is—"

"He's never hurt anyone before!" she wailed.

"But he is _now_. These things go in a downward spiral. You know that more than anyone." She flinched again, but nodded. Her own life was one train wreck after another, getting worse and worse as the years went by. If she continued in this manner she'd end up in prison and of no help to anyone. And she'd never find out what Monster was, unless she used it to get her out, and _then _she'd be just as much as a supervillain as Yokai was—no, she corrected herself. Monster was already a villain. Now she _was _Yokai's ally. There was no use fighting it, just as there was no use fighting the accusations of misdemeanors.

"So you need to do the right thing," Callaghan was finishing gently, "and help keep innocent people safe."

The girl wiped her eyes, swallowed hard, and nodded.

"I can make the phone call if you like—"

"No," she whispered. "I'll—I can… I can convince him. He'll listen to me." He figured as much.

The safest place for Monster was, ironically, with the same person she'd tried for the past week and a half to get away from. And if she couldn't control it when it got out… then it had to go back in the cage. Her heart clenched at the thought. She'd sworn it would never go back in there if it got out. It wouldn't understand.

"Not today," she added, finally leaning into his hug. "I can't. Not today."

"That's all right." He rubbed her back. "Don't worry. You have enough to worry about now. School starts next week." She blinked—she'd forgotten completely about school. "And your high school, I think, starts the week after."

"Yeah, I…" she rubbed her forehead. "Right. I forgot."

"Did you do your homework?"

"Yeah." She sighed. Another reason to return. All her work was wherever Yokai stored his stuff, in the room he'd given her. Goddamn it, she was _not _suffering through all that shit again; she had to either get it or not hand it in.

Her stomach growled and her train of thought was suddenly reminded that she'd gone walking to the convenience store to get something to eat… and never actually ended up there. Callaghan laughed and patted her shoulder. "Hungry?"

"Kinda."

"I'll make us some dinner. But you have to get off my arm." Flushing, she leaned forward so he could get up. "And you'll talk to your friend tomorrow morning, right?"

Machiko bit her lip and avoided his gaze. "I—yeah, I will."

"Promise?"

"First thing," she sighed.

"Where is he hiding? Out of curiosity."

"He's—he went into the sewer," she wrinkled her nose, "but we'll meet by the docks before the workday. Before—before the guys get down there, you know? It'll be… quiet…"

Good. "I'm proud of you."

She jerked her head up, startled, and stared at him. He smiled and squeezed her shoulder, then went into the kitchen. The poor thing had never had someone tell her that before and clung to it like a person dying of thirst clung to a water bottle. He could use that, too. Now if he could only get some physical proof she was being abused he could do something about it.

He set about making dinner and looked up when she wandered into the kitchen and sat on one of the stools, watching him closely. She looked better; the color was coming back to her face. He smiled at her and went back to work.

"What, um," he looked up again; she was staring at the counter nervously. "What're you making?"

"I thought miso soup," he replied, getting the noodles out, "but we have enough for chicken parmesan too, if you want that instead."

"N-No, miso's good. I just figured I'd watch."

He paused. "Would you like to help?"

She looked up at him with that same startled look, like a deer in the headlights. "H-Help? I don't… I've never cooked, I wouldn't know what to do—"

"That's all right. Come on over, I'll teach you." He held out a hand. Machiko bit her lip and slowly slid off the stool to pad over. She looked ridiculous and woebegone and tiny in his oversized bathrobe. He noticed the blonde was starting to grow out of her hair. Underneath was a glossy shade of black; natural, healthy black. She'd dyed and worked her hair so much the ends were straw. "Your hair's coming back," he noted as he laid out the ingredients. "It looks nice."

Machiko blinked and raised a hand to touch her hair. "Oh. I… I guess I stopped thinking about it," she murmured, then realized with a start that a while ago she'd stopped wearing makeup too. That was odd; she liked makeup. But with the crazy events going on it started getting in her eyes and smearing all the time; she supposed that was the reason. Plus all of it was in her bedroom at home. Well, when things died down she'd have to get some more.

He showed her how to slice the mushrooms as he did the scallions and pulled out the dashi stock. "Dad called earlier," Machiko blurted out suddenly.

He raised a brow and finished the scallions, sliding them into the pot. "Oh?"

"He wants me home."

"Do you want to go home?"

She grinned lopsidedly. "I spent three days almost freezing to death and got a fever just so I wouldn't have to over Christmas, what do you think?"

"Fair enough." He'd have to pay her father a visit, he decided, but he still wasn't sure who to do it as. "You are more than welcome to stay here, you know that."

She nodded and he showed her how to cut the tofu into chunks. "Shall we add chicken?"

"Sure."

He opened the fridge and pulled out some chicken breast to slice along with the tofu. "You see, it's not that hard."

Machiko smiled, the expression distant and worried, especially on her young face. He kept forgetting how young she was, having to withstand Hiro's childish behaviors all the time. Machiko had the hardness of someone much older. He had to remember she was more vulnerable than even he knew—which was quite a bit. "Guess not." She became silent again. He knew something else was wrong and gently inquired. Machiko didn't want to tell him, that much was true, but he finally managed to pry it out of her.

"He—He said he'd call the cops if I didn't come home." She swallowed hard. "So I… I guess I have to go. I can run away again, but—"

"No." The word was spoken with the sharpness of finality and so immediately, the steel she'd seldom heard back in his voice, that Machiko shot him a nervous glance. There was a hard glint in his eye; the same she'd seen when she'd first met him. "Don't worry about your father. I'll talk to him."

She hunched her shoulders and stared at the now-simmering pot. You don't understand, she wanted to tell him, but was afraid of letting something slip. "I can handle my dad. I've been doing it for the past sixteen years. You don't gotta worry about me." _Please don't worry about me. You'll only be disappointed_.

"Well," he replied calmly, sliding the rest of the ingredients in and set the timer, "that is just too bad, Machiko, because I'm going to worry about you anyway." He almost added out of habit _Because that's what fathers do_, but stopped himself just in time, glancing at the fridge and the photo of Abigail on her eighteenth birthday. His jaw tightened and he turned back to the soup.

Machiko hadn't responded. She obviously had no idea _how_ to respond to someone actually caring about her or her life. But he saw the faint shadow of a real smile on her face and decided he liked that so he added, "And it doesn't matter how many times you mess up, or use another word I don't approve of," she grinned now, a little challengingly as if to say _yeah good luck with that, _"I'm still going to worry about you."

"Okay," she said, but the smile was still on her face. They finished dinner in a comfortable silence.

Her father called again as they had just finished eating and she was watching some sort of documentary on the History channel. He picked it up before she heard it; it was on vibrate, and put it to his ear.

_"Where the fuck are you? I told you to get your ass home!"_

Callaghan's eyes narrowed in distaste. "Mr. Arashi," he said, quietly enough that Machiko didn't hear, "this is Professor Callaghan. Machiko is safe. She's at my house."

There was only a minute pause as her father adapted to who he was actually speaking to. His attitude became quickly more respectful, though he insisted on continuing to make demands. Oh, he had no idea just who he was talking to. _"Tell her to get home. She's been away long enough."_

"She just got over a bout of severe illness," Callaghan replied coldly. Just as his tone had made Machiko pause it now made her father hesitate. "Her fever was one-oh-four last week and she is not entirely over it. She is staying here."

_"Listen," _the man replied grudgingly, _"I know you have some sort of, ah, special relationship with my daughter," _he did _not _like how he phrased that and narrowed his eyes, _"but I am her father and she'll answer to _me. _Now put her on the phone."_

"I will do no such thing."

The man sputtered. Callaghan hardened his voice even more and suddenly Yokai was speaking into the phone, the supervillain did not like how he was being addressed nor how Mr. Arashi insisted on treating his daughter. "You are not a father. You have not earned the title 'father'. Simply siring a child means nothing, and if you lay a single finger on her ever—_ever_—again, I promise _I will make you pay_. Now, she is going to stay here until school starts. Do not threaten her again."

There was dead silence on the other line. Then Machiko's father hung up. Satisfied, Callaghan put the phone back where he'd found it and went into the living room. Machiko was clearly falling asleep as it was very late now, balled up in his robe with her bare feet poking out the bottom. He rearranged it so they were under the robe.

What sort of mess did he get into? He should have just killed her when he had the chance, he decided with an exasperated mental sigh. He'd had the chance a dozen or so times thus far and hadn't taken them, and now he was far too invested in this project to turn back now. Don't do things carelessly, he'd always told Abigail; if you are going to do something, finish it all the way. And he was very much about leading by example.

Now all he had to do was render her controllable again.

Unless she had a sudden change of heart before tomorrow morning, he didn't think it would be too hard.


	9. Routine

**A/N: **I keep changing and changing and changing things, and it never looks right.

He woke up early and went down to the living room. She was still fast asleep but he could see her eyelids flicker when he leaned in—she was as always a light sleeper. "Machiko," he whispered. She shifted. "Machiko, I need to run out for a bit. Let me know how it goes, okay?"

"Mm-hmmmm," she murmured. He rubbed her shoulder and got up, deciding to leave the television on for now. The girl probably needed background noise to drown out any nightmares about the lives she'd inadvertently taken.

And then he slipped outside, got in his car, and drove off to the nearest parking garage. The toll man knew him, being that he parked his car there quite often, and let him in with a grin—the idiot probably thought he was meeting his mistress or something. Obviously incorrect though it was Callaghan didn't mind; let the kid come to his own conclusions. It helped that he pressed a twenty to his palm and muttered a "thanks" every time he entered. Paid minimum wage the boy would keep his secret in desperation for the frequent tips.

He parked his car and slid out. The briefcase in his trunk was heavy, but he was used to its weight, and he lugged it off to the lone quiet area devoid of cameras.

He had some things to do before he met the girl by the docks.

Woken by his whisper, Machiko was not long behind in waking up to leave. Nerves gripped her stomach and gnawed on her lungs; she slipped her socks, shoes and coat back on—the professor had put them in the drier last night, but not the shoes and they were very uncomfortable—and sneaked outside into the cold, dark early morning winter. She couldn't even think about eating breakfast now.

Callaghan's car wasn't in the driveway. She vaguely remembered him saying something about being gone early. Well, she'd told him she was going down to the docks today. Hopefully he wouldn't start looking for her when she didn't come back.

And hopefully Yokai didn't kill her.

The thought that she might very well be walking to her death left a cold feeling in her gut. She would have Monster to protect her, and sort of welcomed an attack from the supervillain… but he'd gotten her before, he could get her again. She'd broken every rule he'd placed on her; she'd be lucky if he didn't… and she'd be lucky if he let her out of his hiding spot ever again.

She hitched a ride on the early morning train. There weren't many people up and those that were didn't even spare her a glance. She deliberately sat so her back would be to the damage she'd caused yesterday afternoon, and the caution tape where police were still investigating the area where Monster had appeared.

From the nearest stop it was a twenty-minute walk. People were still inside, hiding from the cold and recovering from parties. The line of police continued as they searched for the murderous creature—the very one practically under her feet as she walked. It was following her via the sewer tunnels it could fit in and slid out the manhole when they got down to the docks. Machiko wrinkled her nose at the smell and sent it to dip in the ocean before coming near her. The water was so cold even she felt it as a sharp pain in her temple.

"Sorry," she told it as it heaved out of the water and came to curl up next to her. It could feel her discomfort concerning it and chattered in confusion, undulating slowly as its form curled and shifted and melted. It was just as frightened and nervous as her.

Spines rose as she began to pace, unable to keep still. She put her hands near her mouth and blew to keep them warm. "Damn it," she spat, her motions becoming more erratic, "damn it, damn it, damn it _all _and I had it! I was gonna get you set free," she spun to face it, "and just—we were gonna be okay. We were gonna be okay! I'd let the Asshole 6 take care of Yokai and we'd be _okay_. And I went and fucked it up. I always fuck shit up!" She kicked the nearest container.

She smelled brine. Monster leaned in, resting its flickering mandibles on her shoulder. She reached up to rub the rippling things. They were wet and cold from the ocean. "What the hell is wrong with me?" she whispered.

The sound of the bots made her turn. Monster hissed at the imposing figure.

"You ran." The distorted voice was cold.

Machiko didn't answer, but turned to pace again, keeping him in her vision at all times. The spines got bigger and Monster began to shift faster.

"Why did you run?"

She spun around and kept pacing. Her voice, trembling with anger and regret and _pain, _was not hard to hear in the still morning air. "I—I'm sorry."

"Oh?"

"I'm sorry," she spat bitterly. "I—I should've come back. I fucked up and I'm sorry, okay?" She _hated _admitting this to him. "But you—you made it hard for me to go anywhere else." She wiped her eyes, which stung with unshed tears. And suddenly the whole story spilled out, about hating her father and refusing to spend a miserable Christmas with him to not wanting to ruin other peoples' Christmases and then, finally, to the revelation about being roofied and sexually assaulted. She didn't remember the actual assault but it didn't matter; what mattered was it _happened._

Yokai was silent as it poured out and she became more and more upset and she got the feeling that he was listening—_actually _listening, not just waiting for her to finish. She told him about losing control completely and beating the shit out of the group of guys, then about the hell she'd unleashed afterwards, and about staying outside and nearly freezing to death. Did he stiffen up when she mentioned the roofies? She couldn't tell, she wasn't really paying attention, but the microbots did start writhing faster and more erratically.

When she finally ran out of things to say he was quiet and still for some time. When he spoke again his voice was terse and anger boiled under the surface. She could see _that _a mile away; she knew what it looked like—but for some reason she wasn't afraid; the anger wasn't directed at _her._

"Where were you on Friday?"

Machiko hissed out a breath. "Sick. I got sick 'cuz I stayed outside and I went to a friend's house. That _is _what you told my dad, isn't it?" She whirled to continue pacing, fists clenched so tight they hurt. The upset she felt, of course, quickly turned to anger. "How the fuck did you let Monster go?!"

"I can control the microbots from quite far away." He was as implacable as ever, sinister and dark and his tone was dangerous, but he hadn't attacked them yet.

"_Why'd_ you let it go? Damn it, Yokai!" And she whirled, fully aware that she was probably the only person who'd spoken to him in such a way and lived to tell the tale (not that she'd be doing much telling). "It killed people. It _killed _people!" She punched the wall. "It killed people and now everyone sees it as _your _ally!"

"Yes, that was how it worked out, wasn't it?"

"You fucking planned this, didn't you." Her face was a pure snarl, there was no other way to describe it. It was all his fault. Everything was his fault! Why hadn't he just continued fighting her the way they had been?!

"I did not plan the Molotov cocktails." His voice had lowered to a tone she so did not want to visit, and this time it _was _directed at her. "But the result is the same."

"And now I got no choice but to follow you back," she finished.

There was a long silence. Yokai considered the girl jerking back and forth across the pavement in front of him. She was stuck, and she knew it, and her motions reminded him of a freshly caught wild animal stuffed in a cage that was too small. Though he certainly hadn't planned exactly how that had gone down it had worked out marvelously in his favor. Now Monster was doubly being sought out for the death of innocent civilians and there was nowhere else for her to run. Any thoughts of employing the help of his nemeses would now be just dreams.

He'd have to answer to them when he returned to the university, but one thing at a time. "Come with me."

She swallowed and averted her gaze. Monster hissed and tapped its legs on the pavement and metal containers, turning and twisting figure eights behind her.

"I am willing to allow you another chance," the bots lowered him to stand in front of her. She backed away until her back hit the nearest container. "But Monster will have to return to its cage."

The girl's eyes snapped to the slashes of yellow on the mask. They were wild and full of rage. "I can't do that," she hissed. "I can't." But the words reeked of desperation. She'd lost and she knew it.

"You clearly cannot contain it when working with me." She flinched a little at his phrasing. "If you cannot contain it I will have to do it for you."

He approached. The girl recoiled even more and, responding to her need to get it to safety, Monster slid away from him too. Yokai stopped and reached behind him. The small box met his fingers.

As soon as she saw it Monster cried out and skittered away. Machiko clenched her fists. "Don't," she said quietly. The fingers of one hand pressed against the flesh of her neck, causing it to whiten against the bony digits.

He pulled a quarter of a milliliter into the needle and showed it to her. "Monster will not follow as long as you wish it not to."

He was right. She might go with him but Monster would feed off her desire to keep it as far away as possible from the cage unless he drugged her up entirely. The villain had figured their relationship out faster than even she had, long ago. He could drug her up anyway since she was close enough to him to grab; instead he simply held out a hand. It was clear he wanted her to come to him, though "willingly" would have been the wrong word. "Your arm," he prompted when she hesitated.

"I—" She clenched her teeth. "I'm expected back."

"You will return."

"Will I—will I still be able to go to school?"

"Yes." He was confident now she wouldn't run from him. He'd already shown her that it was futile.

"Are you lying?"

A good question. He could have been. He could still be. "No."

She turned to pace again in the small space he'd allowed her, one that he'd very slowly closed off. He could see the wheels turning; was there anyway else to get out of this? No, she was stuck, and if she tried to run even Monster couldn't save her from his grasp. Very slowly she slid off her heavy coat and held out her unscarred arm. A strand of microbots rose to meet it; she eyed it warily as it fastened itself around her wrist. She was stuck now. There was no going back, unless Monster…

The creature hissed, a sharp sound, and began approaching, prepared to defend her. Oh god, what was she doing? She couldn't betray it like this, and pulled back suddenly, but she knew it was far too late. Yokai pushed up her sleeve, his strong fingers firm on her arm. He was certain about this. There was no going back. There was no going back…

He gently wiped her arm with an alcohol pad and slid the needle in. Machiko winced. He depressed the plunger, then pulled it out and held the spot with his thumb, watching her closely.

It took a minute to take hold this time. Slowly her pupils widened to pitch black pools and her head lolled slightly as her balance tipped. Only then did he press a bandage to the spot and release her.

She stumbled. The microbots caught her. Monster was relaxing too, its spines fading into its body and its jaws closing to become a blob of alien flesh. It moved over to her and rested on the ground next to her. Machiko reached out to stroke it, swaying back and forth. He sent the bots around her to block out any information she might receive about where she was going. Could Monster transmit that info to her? He didn't think so. Their connection seemed to be much more primitive than that.

Monster prodded the ball of tiny robots, claws scraping the sides, and he moved it away from it and headed towards the water. He had to move fast before the search for him and the monster extended down to the docks. He had to admit he'd gone into town too many times, but what else was he to do when his plan was almost complete? Krei's building would be up in four months unless they were ahead of schedule and he needed to be ready for them. Vengeance was so _close_…

He carried her across the water and onto the island and into the facility, hoping the early dawn light wasn't enough to reveal him. Monster was not as cooperative this time, chattering and whining and prodding at the microbots incessantly, probably due to Machiko being still conscious. She wanted to be near Monster and thus Monster wanted to be near her.

He allowed her to walk in the facility once they were safely away from any windows. She grabbed onto the ridge of microbots near her to walk and it was slow-going. He could see she was having doubts but her thought process was too muddled to make anything out. Still, he sped up, half-carrying her through the halls with the confused Monster trailing behind.

Machiko very nearly broke away from him when she saw the cage. She pulled from him and turned to Monster. He grasped her with the bots and directed her firmly into the cage, all the while standing near the large switches—a little too obvious for his taste, but he'd had to create this thing quickly and he'd had no choice.

It didn't want to go in. Machiko was struggling on the opposite side and it tried to go around, but he created a solid wall of bots to dissuade the attempt. Slowly, very slowly it slid inside, dragging itself on its belly, the desire to be with Machiko overriding its fear of the cage itself. With a deep humming sound the force field flickered into existence. Yokai dragged her towards him again. Reacting to his desire the microbots swung into a sort of hammock, and stepped towards her as she struggled to escape it.

He placed a hand gently on the top of her head. "Rest," he ordered. Bleary eyes blinked sluggishly at him. "I must work." She was too high to be allowed to wander off.

The girl obeyed. Completely satisfied with the way events had unfolded, Yokai got back to work. He still had much to do.

/

The next week they established a new routine: he allowed her back home and on Friday she was picked up and spent the weekend at his hideout (this put strain on his schedule; he had to both be home as Robert Callaghan and on the island as Yokai—why he had allowed this situation to be so out of hand he couldn't remember). She told Callaghan she went home on the weekends to appease her father, but was surprised that her dad suddenly stopped calling her. Well, she wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.

She forced herself to look up the people hurt in the fire and those killed by Monster. Four people had been rushed to the ICU; two of them were kids eight and eleven years old, one was their babysitter, and the last an older man downstairs. They were all expected to survive.

Four were eaten by Monster.

Thinking about them made her sick to her stomach. One was a father of five and another was his young adult niece. Both had grabbed firearms and shot at Monster, trying to protect their stalled car full of kids. Two others were just people living in the area who'd rushed to protect their homes.

Eight people. Each time she thought about the incident she had to go lock herself in the bathroom and will herself not to puke. Yokai didn't care. Callaghan had no idea, but he tried to make her feel better and kept telling her how glad he was that she wasn't one of them. This didn't help.

The search was on for Monster. Someone had seen it vanish into the sewers and so teams were going down to find it, though thankfully if anyone saw it after that they weren't saying anything. The homeless by the docks had all but disappeared when Yokai showed up, and those that remained weren't talking either. They knew better.

The next semester started. To see all the other students so happy and relaxed after their winter break was utterly confusing. They talked excitedly about what had happened right in the middle of San Fransokyo—did she know Yokai showed up and set things on fire? Did she _hear _about Big Hero 6 and the monster that appeared? Yes, yes, yes she told them, she heard about it, and changed the subject.

Then _high school _started and made the past week look like a walk in the park. She did the bare minimum for classes she felt she didn't need, like Literature and History and Theology—doing work so she wouldn't be threatened with no college and finishing Bio homework in the middle of those classes.

Three weeks went by in a hectic hassle. Callaghan helped her with her homework in his spare time, but he had classes of his own and so she didn't see him all that much. She hung out on Wednesdays in his office when she didn't have to go back to high school. He would come home to make dinner but had to leave to do whatever a few times a week and she was asleep whenever he came back. They'd spend breakfast together and head out.

Yokai wasn't much of a conversationalist and to be honest she didn't really want to have a full conversation with him anyway. Every once and a while she had to grit her teeth and ask him a question concerning her weekend homework, which he'd answer, but for the most part they did their own separate things. She was pretty sure he was planning something to do with her though… why have this resource and do nothing with it?

It was driving her crazy. Ever since their last real physical fight, he hadn't tried once to hurt them! Yes he had sedated her, frightened her, pinned her to the wall or otherwise restrained her, but he hadn't actually physically _hurt _her since she'd become his reluctant ally.

She knew exactly what he was doing. He'd created a schedule that kept her so busy and exhausted she couldn't even think about fighting him. Meanwhile, Callaghan was probably so, _so_ happy she wasn't getting in any fights.

Being in close quarters with the people who'd beaten and hurt Monster wasn't helping. The tension was incredible.

"Hey." A glance up from the large stack of papers on his desk told him Machiko was right on time. Her Advanced Bio class had ended about fifteen minutes ago; she must have ridden right over on the moped he'd bought her. She loved that thing.

"Machiko, hello," he smiled at her. She smiled back and slid into the chair against the wall, crossing her legs and yanking open her backpack. He was glad to see her going right to the books instead of procrastinating; she'd really come a long way.

"So, uh," she always hesitated when she was trying to be subtle. She always failed. "Uh."

"Go ahead." His smiled turned bemused.

"Kay. Your daughter. Abigail." She flashed a nervous look at him. Callaghan slowly let out a breath; it had been only a matter of time until she'd brought her up… "You said… she wanted to be a bot fighter, right?"

"It's all she wanted to do when she was younger," the old pain rose again. It would never go away, he knew. His baby girl was gone… he remembered the arguments like they were yesterday, and remembered despairing about her future and frantic about what kind of life she'd lead. If only she were here. He'd go through all the tough moments in a heartbeat, make them tenfold, if only he could bring her back.

He'd get his revenge. The pleasure he'd feel watching Krei suffer the same way he did wouldn't drown the pain, but it'd make it easier to deal with. So intense he was in his thoughts he almost didn't hear Machiko talking. He snapped back to the present. "Did she ever get in trouble for it?"

"With me, or with the law?" He thought he could see where this was going.

"With—with the law. You know." She'd bent her head to her book and refused to raise it.

Callaghan leaned back away from his manuscript, gazing over at the girl. He did know. "Once. Bot-fighting isn't illegal, as you know. But the betting is, and she'd joined in on an illegal fighting ring."

"And it was busted."

He smiled a little. Any memory he had of her now was a good one despite the situation and his thoughts at the time—and the pain of loss. "Yes."

"Were you mad?"

"I was furious." A low sound, like a laugh that all the joy had been choked out of, came from his throat. She winced; that sounded painful even to her. His eyes were far away—she'd inadvertently triggered a walk down memory lane. "But mostly worried. She was a tough girl but not as… aggressive as you are. If I had to choose who I'd rather have in a physical fight I'd choose you in a heartbeat."

Her head may have been bent but he could still hear the smile in her voice. "Yeah."

"Why do you ask?"

She shrugged. "I guess I just wanted to know if you ever had to deal with the type of shit—"

"Language," he told her severely.

"Hey, we're not home!" She raised her head finally and grinned; he smiled back, oddly touched that she'd referred to his house as her home. "You said _under your roof_."

"This office counts as my roof," he replied, and chuckled when she groaned.

"Okay, fine. The type of _stuff_ I get into."

He studied her for a moment, considering his next response. He didn't want Machiko to try and compare herself to Abigail in any way. They were completely different creatures and passed each other without even touching as if they were on opposite sides of a highway, travelling different directions. Machiko could never measure up to his Abby. At the same time, Abigail was worlds behind Machiko in other departments. Abigail had a heart of gold; Machiko's heart had been kicked and mangled so many times it was a miracle she felt empathy at all. "No," he said finally. "I never had to deal with shoplifting, or joyriding, or visits to the hospital. Though she did underage drink once."

Machiko took a breath. "Oh. Kay."

"But that does not make you inherently bad," he went on firmly, and was rewarded when hope flickered in her eyes, "or that she was better than you. You two are different people. Your experiences made you who you are, and I was able to shape Abigail's experiences to make her the person she was."

The girl tilted her head. For a minute she said nothing, then she nodded. "Okay."

"All right?"

"Yeah. Okay." Another pause. "Why are you so damn—uh, freaking nice to me?"

"Because my experiences made me who _I _am," he replied. _You have no idea how much that's true, girl._ "Now I really do need to finish this. Go on with your homework, hm? We'll talk more about this later if you want."

He couldn't see her face but he could tell she was smiling. And for some reason, it warmed his twisted, revenge-stricken heart.


	10. Escape

p class="MsoNormal"Machiko didn't even think as she shoved Callaghan's office door open. The past few weeks she hadn't gotten all that much sleep due to stress and nightmares, and she wasn't thinking; didn't hear the slightly elevated, tense voices on the other side of the door. Callaghan's door was never closed, and it was Wednesday. She always hung out with him on Wednesday. Today wasn't any different./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Except, apparently, it was; she stopped dead when Hiro twisted to face her and Baymax waddled around in circle. His puffy bulk blocked the view of the desk, but she knew Callaghan's startled face well enough to imagine it./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""Hey," she said, automatically going to stand-your-ground response. "Th'fuck you doin in here?"/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""Language," came Callaghan's voice from behind them./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Right. Machiko tossed her bag into the corner and slouched into a chair. "Sorry," she muttered, rubbing her eyes./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""It's okay," Hiro said, though she wasn't apologizing to him. She was too tired to correct him. Or she didn't care. emPick one, asshole/em. "We were just leaving. C'mon, Baymax."/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"The robot was staring at Machiko, black button eyes expressionless. But he didn't move when Hiro started for the door. "Baymax, emc'mon/em."/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""I have a query." It still hadn't moved./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Hiro groaned and dragged a hand over his bangs. He was about to speak, but Baymax piped up again. "About the injuries I have categorized from my scan of you, Machiko Arashi."/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Machiko stiffened and sat up, alarm flickering in her gut. Since when had—oh right, in the alley. The robot probably just hadn't had time to say anything earlier. That didn't matter, though, what mattered was it shut up now. "Whoa hey, now, that's not—"/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""Injuries categorized add to two hundred twenty eight, ranging from previously broken bones to internal trauma." Behind them, Callaghan rose to his feet and came around the desk. He was willing to side with his hated enemy on this one thing. The multiple eyes on her made Machiko very very nervous. As it always did, she stood her ground and fought back./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""That's emnone of your business,/em" she hissed, "and you can stuff your emquery/em!"/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Baymax paused. Its confidentiality program was still very primitive, but at least it knew to not to ask that particular question. But it had one purpose, and one purpose only: to heal the sick and injured. If it couldn't ask the question it could go another way around, and so it doggedly kept talking. "I recommend: immediate physical therapy," Baymax paused and waddled forward; Machiko shrunk away, "and perhaps: mental therapy, as evidence suggests they began accumulating at: three years of age."/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""I got in a car accident," Machiko blurted out, fingers white where they were clenched into fists. She had to empunch /emsomething… around her, the three other people in the room were silent for a short moment as she struggled with her temper. Then Callaghan said quietly, "Every year since you were three years old?"/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"The girl lunged to her feet, turned and smashed her fist as hard as she could. Callaghan rose swiftly and Hiro stumbled back, startled. Baymax started forward, probably hoping to stop her from harming herself, but the professor beat the robot there, grabbing her wrist as she drew back to punch again. "Machiko," he said softly, reaching up to touch her face and "accidentally" brushing a thumb against a particular spot on her neck./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"The girl took a deep, shuddering breath, attempting to calm herself, and the professor glanced at the boy. "Mr. Hamada, if you please."/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Hiro looked at him suspiciously. Sure, Machiko had been hanging out with the hidden supervillain for almost a year now, and the man seemed to welcome her, but did he really trust him to do the right thing for her? He repeatedly tried to murder his former students, he'd caused the death of another student—Hiro's brother—he blackmailed the heroes into not revealing him on pain of discovery to all their emother /emenemies, and they were pretty damn sure he was looking to kill Alister Krei. The man's moral compass had gone violently askew ever since he'd stolen Hiro's microbots (and perhaps before then)./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"But if he was good at one thing, it was being a father. Hiro nodded slowly and beckoned at Baymax. "C'mon."/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""I do not think—"/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""This isn't something you can fix, buddy." He looked down at her. "Hey. If you need any help… you know where we are." He meant both in the school and out./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"She didn't respond. They left. Machiko was breathing hard and shaking as she pushed her anger away, and Callaghan kept his hand resting on her neck./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""I get in fights," she hissed finally. "You know that."/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""You got in fights when you were three years old and on with someone strong enough to scar you for life?"/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"She sucked in a breath. "It was none of your business. It's none of your embusiness/em!"/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"His hand slid from her neck to her arm, feeling the scarred muscles twitch and surge. "Now we have proof, Machiko. Baymax can submit his findings—"/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""And emwhat/em?" She yanked away from him and spun around; he used her momentum to press her back down into the seat, knowing full well the possible consequences of these actions and pleasantly surprised when she didn't lash out at him. She struggled for a moment, but he had the upper leverage, and she gave up quickly. "I get taken away from my dad? I get put in child services, in some foster home—I'm emnot /emgoing through child services."/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""You don't have to." Her eyes snapped to his again, wild and scared and angry. He gently rubbed her arm as he spoke, keeping his manner and tone soft. "You already spend most of the week with me. Why not your weekends too?"/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"He saw the panic cross her face and knew what it was for; how would she get back to Yokai if she was at Callaghan's? Taking pity on her he added, "I know how you value your freedom." emMore than most/em. "I promise I won't stop you if you need to leave for a while as long as you also value your own safety. But Machiko… this abuse has got to emstop/em."/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"She lowered her eyes again and took deep, shuddering breaths. "Child… services… they'll—"/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""I'm offering emmyself/em as a foster home." Again her head jerked up. The shock on her face was practically emtangible; /emhe hid a smile. "I don't think they could find any place that's more ideal, do you?"/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""I-I—"/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""At least, I don't think there's anything more ideal."/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"She made a small sound. Acting on instinct Callaghan knew now it was safe to touch her further and slid into the seat next to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. She leaned into his hug and he tightened his grip. Yes, he had her. This was the last bit he needed./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""It's going to be okay," he murmured. He tucked her hair behind her ear. It was still growing out. The natural shine her hair had was a welcome sight to the dead, straw-like blonde it had been. "I promise."/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Her entire life had been spent in that house./p  
p class="MsoNormal"It wasn't necessarily a terrible house, physically. Machiko just hadn't spent much time looking at it. She preferred breezing through the front doors and heading straight up the stairs to her room and jumping out her second-story window to get out. The back of the house was right up against an old dingy alleyway, which made it perfect for Monster to hang out in as it waited for her to come home. It was sandwiched between a Chinese takeout and their neighbors, a couple of older potheads who virtually never saw the light of day and who were probably squatting anyway./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"The front of the house was gray. The paint was peeling and chipping and the lower windows sported rusty bars. There had once been fire stairs in the back but they'd long since been removed, stolen, or just rusted off. Machiko thought the whole place had once been a steam shop. It smelled like one. Concrete stairs led up to a faded blue door that according to the paint underneath had once been red./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"It was hard to believe she didn't live there anymore. Things had moved rather quickly after her injuries had been found. Hiro was more than happy to help Machiko get away from her abusive father and it was easy for Baymax to transmit the data from his memory core to a hospital database. There really wasn't any other possible reason for the enormous amount of previously broken bones, spanning from three years of age to present./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"He was less happy when he realized where she was going, but what could he do? Machiko wasn't going to let him or his friends' dislike of Callaghan stop her from possibly forever getting out of her dad's house./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Her dad hadn't been arrested but they'd assured her he would be as soon as the proper paperwork had been filed. She'd believe it when she saw it. Besides her foster father—it was weird to even think about calling him that—Machiko wasn't really in the habit of believing anyone, especially adults./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"So now she stood in front of her house. Her old house. Two cops waited by the car and beside her, waiting patiently, was the professor and a large woman who was her social case worker. Jeanne, she remembered. The lady's name was Jeanne. She was very pleasant, but she was yet another adult Machiko didn't trust. She was just another kid to her. Another kid from another broken home; another case to solve. She wasn't the professor./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Dad was inside, hence the cops. She had to get whatever she left here that she wanted—there wasn't much. Her birth certificate, as long as it was in the same spot she'd hidden it. That and her social security card. Her mom must have gotten them for her before she died or ran away or whatever the hell happened to her—Machiko had no idea and honestly did not care a single bit. So those two things, and a picture album… miscellaneous shit…/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"The door slammed open. Machiko didn't flinch, but her eyes remained on the stairs. She never looked at her father. Her eyes were always on the floor, gazing past him, or unfocused. Now that she had a more broad understanding of her mind she wondered if it was some sort of coping mechanism./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""Mr. Arashi, if you could step outside please," one of the cops said. A warm weight made Machiko suppress a start; the professor had rested a hand on her shoulder./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"An argument commenced. Machiko blocked out all sounds the minute it started, still staring vacantly at the stairs. Something about the cops needing a warrant and his daughter was a delinquent bitch or whatever./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""Machiko?" A steady voice cut through the fog. Machiko took in a sharp breath and refocused. Callaghan had been trying to gently get her attention. Her father was standing off to one side and Jeanne was coming back over from where she had been firmly talking him down and showing him the warrant to search the house and allow Machiko in. She'd hoped that he'd get belligerent enough to get arrested, but he seemed to have calmed down. Damn./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""Hey!" Her father spun as she began to walk towards the door, professor and social worker right behind her. Machiko stopped. "Her fuckin' pimp isn't allowed in my house!"/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Callaghan hissed very quietly through his teeth, as if steadying himself, but Machiko snorted. Pimp. The very idea that Machiko would sell her body—would allow anyone else to sell her body—was hilarious to her. She snickered quietly as the cops tried to calm him down. It was unlikely that she'd ever be interested in sex ever. She'd had no interest in any such thing since as long as she could remember, and what happened with the frat party had only solidified it. She'd seen kids in her high school make out, sneak beneath the bleachers and into the bathrooms, suck on each other's faces… and the actions were only strange things that she regarded with a mild amount of fascination and vague disgust./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""Professor Callaghan," Jeanne murmured, "I'm sorry, but—"/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"He raised his hands. "I understand. Machiko, I'll be right here." His eyes were firm and the steel made her glance nervously back over at her dad. There was no way Callaghan could win a physical fight against her dad, but the force of his will was far more powerful./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"She trotted up the stairs like she'd done so many times and breezed through the kitchen and up to the second floor. To her right was the hall and the bathroom as well as her dad's bedroom, which he normally didn't sleep in—he preferred the couch. That was fine. She preferred he sleep downstairs anyway. In front right at the top of the stairs was her tiny room./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"It wasn't a bad room as rooms in the city went. It was small but useable. A twin bed took up most of it and the plaster on some of the walls had been knocked off. Her dad had punched a few holes in them. A tiny bureau held her clothes. Machiko didn't even touch it; they were all dirty. They didn't have a washer or drier in-house and she'd rarely had spare change for the Laundromat down the block./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Her birth certificate and social security card were in a small box shoved way in the corner of her bed. Her dad had never asked for them or looked for them, and Machiko wanted him nowhere near them—he probably would have thrown them away out of spite./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"She'd never noticed how dirty things were, or how incredibly run down, before Professor Callaghan's house. It was surprising how much she preferred cleanliness now when before she couldn't have cared less; she noticed every corner full of dust and old fur from Rowdy. She'd never vacuumed. They probably didn't even own a vacuum. She did try to clean up Rowdy's messes, of course; as he got older he became more and more incontinent. The smell of pee set her dad off and in order to avoid Rowdy being hurt any more she'd… put herself in his place…/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Until he'd tottered into the kitchen and her dad had blown up at him. That had been the event that had started it all./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Her picture album was small and had photos of her dog in it and, in earlier years, a fish she'd kept for a year before it had died. She'd never dared take pictures of Monster. What if someone found the album? A couple of miscellaneous school supplies, and she was done./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"She got up again and joined Jeanne at the top of the stairs. "Ready?" the woman asked./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""Yeah."/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"They left the house. Machiko smiled slightly as the door swung closed behind them and made a beeline for the professor, whose face was thunderous as he listened to her father get blustery again. "And that fucker threatened me and all I wanted to do was get my daughter home safe—"/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""Don't listen to him," Jeanne said. Machiko found herself leaning against Callaghan. When had that happened? "I'm not," she replied simply. "He's nothing."/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Her head was resting on his chest so his chuckle reverberated deeply against her cheek. A warm hand rested on her upper arm. "Good girl."/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"They left. Callaghan didn't ask about the amount of things she took from the house and Jeanne seemed satisfied about what she'd found. "It's a good case," she kept saying, but Machiko didn't care about that either. If it was such a good case, why did it take so long for her dad to get arrested?/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal""We'll go shopping Friday," the professor—her foster father—told her. "It's high time you get some clothes that are just for you."/p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"Machiko couldn't help it. She smiled at him; a real smile, not a sardonic or sarcastic or sneering one. He didn't see it, having kept his eyes on the road, but he got the gist of it from the corner of his eye and felt a corner of his mouth turn up in response./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"It was nice to see her smile./p  
p class="MsoNormal" /p  
p class="MsoNormal"It was nicer that he now officially owned her. Now the real work could begin./p 


	11. Sisters

_Tak. Tak. Tak._

Machiko's hiding place was obvious—or so she thought. The guard below her didn't even think to look up; he passed the giant bookshelf by, flashlight swinging lazily from side to side. Machiko held her breath and remained as still as she could for as long as she could, then let it out in a slow _whoosh_.

Stealth wasn't her forte. Why Yokai wanted her to steal something in a damn museum was beyond her, though he did mention needing to get back with his old criminal partners or whatever. Maybe he just needed to bribe them into joining him again?

He'd mentioned Mr. Yama and his deadly Fujitas as his previous henchmen (she really didn't like the insinuation that she was his _current _henchmen, but whatever) before they'd been busted. She hadn't been paying attention to the legal goings-on in the city but apparently Mr. Yama had been released on technicality, and the Fujitas were soon likewise due to "lack of witnesses" (she didn't want to know what that really meant). But why _she _had to do the dirty work was beyond her…

Machiko crept down the bookcase and slid into the next room. According to schematics the camera was… over there.

She groaned silently. She hated stealth! The most stealing she'd done was slip something into her pocket or shoplift at a store, not sneak in somewhere. _The professor's gonna kill me if he ever finds out. _She'd sworn off stealing when she'd moved into his house. And joyriding. He'd bought her a moped so she could get her need for speed out of her system (which she used on a regular basis) but it wasn't the _same_.

Machiko inched along the wall under the camera and praying she was right, that there was only one in this room, and headed into the next around the corner of the archway. Her gloves rasped on the wall. The noise was barely able to make it to one's ears but she still felt like it was the loudest noise on the face of the planet, just like her breathing. Down the hall, into the Gems and Minerals department, pull the stolen keycard out of her pocket and the door clicked unlocked.

The adrenaline, she had to admit, was almost as good as joyriding. At least, her heart was pounding just as hard as when she broke into a car.

_South Africa. South Africa… _there. She inched the box carefully out of its niche on the shelf and uncovered a stone so deep red it was black in the dark of the room. She slid it into her little cloth bag and hung it around her neck. It was a little heavy, but she didn't have anywhere else to put it.

She was just leaving the room and shutting the door when alarms blared and the safety doors began to slide down. The suddenness of the noise made her jump a good foot, her heart nearly exploding out of her chest. _Holy shit!_ _What the fuck?_ Did she miss a camera? Did one of the guards see something?!

_No time to speculate, just run!_

Sticking to the shadows, Machiko threw the hood of her sweater over her head to block anyone seeing anything that could identify her and bolted. There was shouting and lights behind her suddenly; what the hell? What could have possibly happened? Panic fueling her, she scrambled to the dinosaur exhibit and threw herself under the door, rolling to keep herself from being crushed. She barely made it.

She could _not _get caught here! _The professor's gonna kill me!_

A shadow blocked out the light. She felt Monster in her mind before she even looked up or heard its hissing. It pried open the skylight just like she'd taught it to do and dangled long legs into the room. Without thinking she scrambled up the brontosaurus skeleton and _leaped _into the air. It caught her and yanked her up and slammed the skylight shut and before she knew it they were racing across the city. She heard screams as people looked out the window and saw the creature.

Try as she might, the girl couldn't hold back her giggling. Okay so this was just as awesome as joyriding. Who knew Yokai could give her the thrill she needed. _Oh gross that sounds dirty. Ew._

Of course, she had to return Monster to the cage. The thought sobered her up quick; she directed Monster below the skyline and into alleyways, the shouts and screams fading behind them.

"Good job," she told it finally as they slowed, and grinned again. It chattered happily. Ever since she'd accepted Yokai's help they'd been able to do things they never were able to before, such as teach Monster to do simple things on command and direct it more easily with her mind. Her sense of it had increased times five and she could now sense where it was almost all the time if she concentrated hard enough. She figured the fact that he controlled his microbots let him understand how Monster worked a little more.

Not that she hadn't attempted such things before. She'd had Monster since she was little and for as long as she could remember; they'd tried all sorts of things, but Yokai introduced things she hadn't even thought of.

Machiko leaned back against Monster's legs. It was only a matter of time until Yokai showed up and she was forced to go back to his hideout and put Monster back in its cage. Fingering the stone around her neck she sighed and tilted her head back.

And then leaped to her feet as Yokai came into her vision over roof, having been staring down at her and Monster. The creature yelped and scrambled as he came down, a great snake of inky blackness.

"Holy _shit_," she gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. "How long have you _been _there?"

He didn't answer but held out his hand. Machiko blinked at him stupidly for a second before remembering and ripping the bag over her head and tossing it at him. He caught it easily and opened it to make sure she'd done right.

"Good." His distorted voice was approving. "You did well."

Oh no, she was _not _going to feel warm at his approval. Machiko folded her arms and attempted to push it down. She was successful when he added, "Even with the alarms."

For a second she just stared at him, mouth open, and then sputtered. He waited patiently for her to get the words out. "You—wait, you—you fucking—_did you trip the alarms?!_"

"I did."

"What the _fuck!_"

His head tilted slowly, in that sinuous twisting motion that she knew meant he was annoyed. Monster whined and huddled down. "Say again?" He growled.

"I—" Ugh, this _asshole_. "Why," she said, keeping her voice level, "did you trip the damn _alarm system?_"

"To see if you would escape."

"What's the point of _that_?!" She dragged a hand through her hair and yanked out the ponytail in irritation. "If I got caught you wouldn't get your stupid pretty rock!"

His gaze was as ever implacable. Which of course was the point of his mask. "The point," he said slowly, so she couldn't mistaken his words, "was to see if you were capable of getting it despite everything going wrong. Not only have you proven you can to me, you have also proven yourself to the Fujitas."

Machiko stared at him silently for a long minute, not sure how to react to this but ready to fly into a rage. She took a deep breath and suddenly Yokai grabbed her with microbots and yanked her forward towards him, leaving the air from her lungs behind. He held up the box threateningly. Machiko yelped and struggled in fruitless desperation. "What—_What _are you—"

He nodded at Monster. Twisting as much as she could to look she could see spines had risen off its body and it had developed huge crocodilian jaws full of jagged teeth and was staring hatefully at Yokai, as always betraying her thought processes. Machiko closed her mouth. Oh. Damn it, she hated that he could basically read her mind with the creature around. And when it _wasn't _around, it didn't matter because he could easily subdue her!

"Fine," she muttered.

The bots tightened, forcing her to look at him. He was deadly silent and she fidgeted nervously. What else could she say? "Sorry. I wasn't gonna."

He released her and she dropped a few feet down, used to this treatment, and landed expertly on her feet. Monster extended antennae to brush against her face and head and she met them with her fingers, knowing without looking that it had calmed down as she did. She brushed herself off and scowled at the masked villain. "I wasn't _gonna_!"

"It is impossible to tell, Miss Arashi."

"I think the fact that it didn't do anything when you grabbed me is proof enough," she snapped back, bristling.

"Learn how to control your thoughts," he replied, "and I would not have to 'grab' you. Now come."

Pissed and definitely intimidated all over again she let Monster lift her up and skitter after the supervillain as he slithered away. Sirens from police cars sounded in the background. They followed quietly and Machiko closed her eyes to relax, nestled in the creature's spidery legs and letting her mind wander as she played with its weird spiny hairs. She was still annoyed. Sure it kinda made the steal a little more interesting, but what if she'd failed? Monster would have smashed the windows open to get her and if it hadn't, he'd be down a partner (she refused to call herself a henchwoman) and she'd have to get the professor to bail her out.

But it wasn't like she could read Yokai's mind like he could read hers, what with a creature the size of a jacked-up truck displaying everything she was feeling.

Speaking of Monster…

She'd taken a scraping of Monster's cells to study in microbio (in secret of course) in vain hope of narrowing down what animal tree it belonged to—which turned out to be a wild goose chase. She knew she didn't have a chance to find out. Monster was a completely unique specimen and its cells were nothing like anything she'd seen, both in the microscope and in books. Every cell had something that appeared to have a mini-brain, as if every cell was its own organism…

What if it _was _like the microbots? What if Monster was a swarm of billions of separate creatures tied to her in a sort of hive mind? That was creepy. And kinda cool.

They'd stopped. Machiko dragged herself out of her thoughts and looked around, but couldn't see much due to obvious reasons, so she made as if to get down and Monster obeyed, setting her gently on the pavement. It remained hanging onto the wall and ready to grab her if it needed to. They were at a crossroads, the night pitch black around them with a single hanging street light illuminating the pavement and boarded up windows around them. Machiko rubbed her arms and shivered—it wasn't as cold as Christmas was, but it was still pretty frigid, and she was finally cooling off from the workout she'd had earlier.

"Put Monster in the alley," Yokai spoke suddenly, pointing behind him. Machiko obeyed and the mass of legs and eyes retreated into the dark.

"What're we waiting for?"

"Quiet."

She sighed and crossed her arms. After a moment she went over to the mass of roiling microbots and sat on it. Yokai glanced back and she looked back sullenly. If he didn't want her on there he'd remove her. Surprisingly he didn't, but turned back around and ignored her. The bots were weird under her ass, but at least they weren't freezing and damp like the ground.

The sound of… roller skates? Coming down the hill made her turn. "Yokaaaaai, what up!" Sounded far away coming closer in Japanese. Machiko jumped and peered into the dark. Yokai didn't seem surprised at all, but lowered himself down and flicked a hand to push Machiko into a standing position. She stood obediently but stepped back a little towards him as three adult women came out of nowhere, speeding on rollerblades towards them. Two peeled off to surround them and the last did a little twirl and stopped in front of them with a flourish. Nervously Machiko backed up a little more, her heels brushing the hive behind her, and glanced at Yokai.

He looked back at her briefly and inclined his head. _Yes I know these people_. Machiko relaxed a little and took their faces in, trying to memorize them.

"Been a while," the lead lady crowed, leering at him. She wore a patch over one eye and chopsticks in her hair. All three of them had heavy paint over their faces. Clever, she thought, watching them greet each other. No mask, but they were still unidentifiable enough that if they washed the paint off and stood in lineup someone would have difficulty telling who they were.

Yokai was as cold and distant as always, but actually greeted all three of them. The Fujiatas, she realized. Shit, was she actually going to be working with them? God damn she was in _deep_. She looked back towards the alley, wanting to sneak back to Monster and vanish, but she knew she wouldn't get two steps before he'd grab her.

"And who's this?"

Machiko looked back at the lead, then at Yokai. He must've seen the discomfort in her face despite the low light because a coil of bots wrapped in a loose circle where she was standing. She didn't expect that to actually comfort her, but it did—he had her back on this. "Who wants to know?" she finally found her voice and raised her eyes to look the lady dead on.

She grinned with a too-wide painted mouth. "Fiesty, huh? How old are you, kid?"

"How old are _you, _grandma?"

The other two laughed. One-eye tittered a little too, but she could tell she was annoyed. "Okay," she purred in Japanese, "okay, I get it. She yours, I take it?" she asked the silent supervillain. He nodded once. "Cool." She held out a hand. "Josei."

Shit, should she tell her her real name? No, probably not. What should she tell her? "Hariken," she blurted, and took the proffered hand.

"Hurricane, eh?" Josei shook her hand once. The power behind the muscles left Machiko speechless. "That over there is Hisa," she indicated the short lady with long blonde hair, "and that over there's Natsumi. Call us the Fujita Sisters. And kid," she squeezed, making Machiko fight down a wince, "I'm younger than you think."

Machiko couldn't resist. "What, okay, so you're forty instead of fifty. Honest mistake."

Josei's eyes narrowed and Machiko's bones creaked. A sharp hiss from the alleyway made Josei glance up, and then Yokai growled, "Josei, Miss Hariken. Enough."

Machiko blinked as Josei released her and backed up. Did Yokai just refer to her as Hariken? Did she seriously just create her alter-ego name? Oh no. She was turning into one of them. Man, she wanted to go home and _sleep_. The day's events were catching up to her and the professor had promised pancakes tomorrow morning if she got up in time. What was it, midnight?

"You got guts, kid," Josei was saying, "but guts ain't everything." She smiled suddenly. "By the way, I'm twenty-eight."

Machiko smiled back. "I'm sixteen."

"Aight." Josei nodded. "Fair enough." She turned back to Yokai and Machiko had a sudden surge of déjà vu. Wait a sec… they'd met before. The short girl with the blonde hair—Hisa—had chased her away from a fish taco truck. Well she wasn't gonna tell em _that_.

Yokai was showing them the ruby, drawing whistles from the girls. "You got this yourself?" Natsumi asked, peering over at her.

Should she tell them about Monster? Yokai had made sure it was out of sight, so… "Yeah."

"You ever think about joining the Sisters?"

She snorted. "No." Oh, that was the wrong thing to say. She could tell by the way they looked at her and she cursed her blunt tongue. Damn it, she had to work on blurting things out. The Sisters were a big deal and were attached to Mr. Yama and they could make her life pretty difficult… but she had Yokai on her side, and her life was almost completely full with difficulty already.

"With me," Yokai said, and the microbots drew her back away from Josei. She looked up at him, taken aback. His posturing was sinister as always but she'd gotten to be hypersensitive about his tiny movements and non-expressions. He was being a mite protective of her, which was incredibly odd seeing as he had been threatening her only a few minutes ago.

"I feel so left out," Josei pouted, gliding back over to him, accepting the gem and tucking it into her robe. Machiko glanced questioningly at Yokai, who made a small pacifying gesture with his hand. Not here. Well, fine. "You take the kid under your wing but not one of us? My _heart, _Yokai."

"That is none of your concern. Tell Mr. Yama this ruby is to facilitate the re-development of our partnership and was stolen by my associate Miss Hariken, alone."

Josei glanced over at the girl, who was rubbing her arms again and looking sullen. "She to be trusted?"

"I will keep her in line."

"Ooooh," Hisa crooned, swinging her hips and rocking back and forth on her rollerblades, "_that _doesn't sound good. Mr. Yama won't like that."

"Miss Hariken," Yokai said, and at her glance nodded towards the alleyway.

"You don't call _me _Miss Josei—" One-eye choked to a stop and the other two let out little screams and rocketed back as Monster came boiling gleefully out of its hiding place, flowing like water over to a halt next to Machiko and re-forming. She grinned viciously at the looks on the Fujita Sisters' faces and Monster rubbed its legs together like a grotesque cricket.

"_What is that?!_" It was hard to see her in the dark, but Natsumi was very much balancing impressively on top of a dumpster as if she'd seen, well, a twelve-foot-long spider. Her voice was way too high-pitched to be calm.

"That," Yokai said, "is the reason Miss Hariken is with me. Now, go."

They didn't need to be told twice. It was one thing to be around a villain with thousands of little robots, it was another entirely to be around something that completely defied the natural order of things. Monster could not be mistaken for anything but, well, a monster.

After they were gone Hariken took a deep breath of the cold air and let it out with a whoosh. "Okay, so, way too much for one night. Can I go home?"

"After Monster is put away." He paused. "Miss Hariken."

Was that amusement? "Yeah, well," she muttered. "It was the first thing that came to mind. I didn't have much time to think about it, y'know."

"It is a suitable name." That was probably the most placating tone she'd ever heard him use, and folded her arms as she was suddenly surrounded by microbots. Used to this by now she sat down in the little hollow sphere he made for her and waited—he still didn't trust her enough to show her where his hideout was and try as she might she was never able to figure out where he was taking her, so she'd given up. There were clues, of course—the shock of cold pain when Monster entered the water, perhaps—

Wait.

Water?

Since when had she known it was water? _Oh my god, it _is _water._ How could she not have figured this out before? The shock of the cold against Monster's skin, the waves lapping, the lazy side to side movements as it swam behind them—they were in the water for a long time. Hariken closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the bots, concentrating. They were definitely in the water. The smell of brine hit her skin, the cold lapped slowly at her sides as she cut easily through the water, and the freezing sea brought all sorts of scents of rotting flesh, food, seaweed, and _what the fuck am I doing_.

She slammed into her own mind so fast she yelped, the sound too loud in the tiny space, and curled into a tight fetal position, breathing hard. What the hell just happened?!

Not long after that the microbots split open and she jumped out, still shaky. Yokai looked down at her curiously.

"Nothing," she muttered to his unspoken question. "Got seasick." And then, a little stronger, she added "Trying to make me puke, are you?"

He turned away and she breathed a quiet sigh of relief before following, her mind still racing about what had just happened. She and Monster had… melded, somehow, mind to mind. Become one. She'd felt what it felt. Did it feel what she did too? She'd long since figured Monster only fed off her emotions and had very little mind of its own—at least, it couldn't process complex thought. Whereas Rowdy learned any trick she taught him, Monster only learned something if she impressed a very simple concept upon it for years and years, like needing to keep itself hidden.

Or maybe… maybe she was the one who fed on emotions. Maybe her thoughts were its own thoughts, and she lashed out when it got angry, not the other way around. _Oh my god_.

She touched its shifting hide as they walked through the tunnels. It was wet and cold from the water, almost liquid under the rough skin it'd formed, but to her it was inviting and familiar. Monster was her friend, her companion. The only one she had. She couldn't doubt it, not now. Not when her life was so crazy and askew.

It stopped at the edge of the cage like it always did, because she did.

"I know buddy," she whispered, letting it twine its antennae in her hair. "I'll get you out as soon as possible, okay?"

It made a low sound and tapped the floor inside the field generators, then hesitantly stepped inside. An eye popped open to look at her.

"I know," she said again. "It's okay. Go on. Someday…" she swallowed tears. "Someday we'll learn how to fly and get out of here, okay?"

It couldn't understand anything she said, but it could appreciate her sadness, and groaned softly before sliding inside. Yokai flipped the switches where he stood and the low hum filled the air as the field turned on. Rubbing her gritty eyes, the girl turned to face the masked villain. "Can I go home now?"

"Yes."

"Good," she muttered as the bots overtook her again, glad he was patient enough to actually take her home. "I'm getting those freaking pancakes tomorrow."

Did he laugh? She couldn't tell.

The revelation about the water would have to wait. She'd figure out where she was constantly being ferried to and from later. Machiko dozed on the way across the water and only woke up when she was unceremoniously dumped onto pavement. Without much more than a "Bye" mumbled in Yokai's direction she staggered home, snuck into the front door and crept upstairs. She fell into bed and only had enough sense of mind to kick off her shoes.

She spent the night dreaming of light-sucking, freezing water swallowing her whole, while Monster called out plaintively above her, stuck in its cage.


End file.
